And Baby Makes Four
by NotMarge
Summary: They used to be part of the freakshow. Now they're a family. Plus one. A continuation of 'Jimmy, Not Moses'.
1. And Baby Makes Four

I do not own American Horror Story: Freak Show.

I do own a baby boy. Whom I am leaving to go back to work for the first time in 14 weeks. Boo.

And Baby Makes Four

* * *

Back and forth, back and forth, back and forth.

Jimmy Darling Walker, former Lobster Boy of Fraulein Elsa's Cabinet of Curiosities, and current expectant father, walked back and forth, back and forth, back and forth.

He wandered, he paced, he paused.

He pressed his wooden hands down upon his blond head. He breathed deeply and squeezed his eyes shut.

And opened them again.

He stood, he sat.

He peered out the window at the house on the other side of the hedge.

His house.

Where his wives, his wonderful darlings, strove to give life and breath to their first born child.

Too long, it had been too long.

At least he thought.

In the freakshow, there hadn't been many births.

Well, _real_ births.

But on such occasion, Ma had been called to lend a hand.

And surely it hadn't taken this long, had it?

He looked at the clock again.

Seven hours.

Seven hours since Bette had woken him from sleep and announced it was time and Dot had rung Lucy to come to the house.

And Jimmy had been shooed out with sweet kisses and whispered surreshes that everything would be fine.

Too long, too long.

He had been in Lucy's house all this time, too keyed up to rest or be really calm.

Too nervous to leave for a walk or to check on the store or even eat more than a bite.

Something must have gone wrong.

He knew they were strong, knew they were capable.

But he should have forced them to go to the hospital.

Why hadn't he, as the _by god_ man of the house, forced them to go?

Oh. Right.

Because they were freaks.

One body, two heads.

Freaks.

That's the way the world in general would see them.

Medical abdominations, that's the way the doctors would see them.

Them and their baby.

But that's not what they were.

Jimmy, their husband, knew them for what they really were.

They were women, individual women.

Beautiful, intelligent, kind, loving.

His darling wives.

And the mothers of his unborn, soon to be born child.

And it had been too long.

He got up again and twitched aside the curtains to peer at the house with its shades drawn against the sun sparkled windows.

Too long, had to be too long.

"Son, if you don't sit down, I'm gonna have to tie you down."

His voice was kind and patient, as were his enlarged eyes behind his thick glasses.

Dan Clark had been through this anxiety before, when his own wife had given birth their son. And when that son's wife had given birth to his beloved grandchildren.

And he knew his place, his quiet, supportive role.

So when Jimmy sat down only to pop back up again fifteen seconds later, he smiled.

And calmly continued his newspaper perusal.

Just as Jimmy was about to wear a trench in Lucy's freshly vacuumed living room carpet, the telephone trilled.

Jimmy didn't remember picking it up or saying hello.

But he did hear the voice on the other end.

"Time to come meet your daughter, Jimmy."

Lucy should have, in retrospect, been grateful the new daddy remembered to exit through the door.

Instead of plowing straight through the wall.

* * *

In truth, it had been longer than seven hours.

And the bathtub might never be the same again.

They had felt strange all the previous day but not enough to sound the baby alarm.

Then Dot had woken up sometime after midnight to light, widely spaced apart contractions.

She had lain there, Jimmy on one side, Bette on the other, cradled in the warmth and love of her family.

She had visualized the baby's room and each object within it. Listed everything for the dozenth time.

Baby powder, cloth diapers, burp cloths, blankets, gowns, booties . . .

So much happier than counting sheep, she had then, beyond all possibility, fallen back to sleep.

And woke few hours later to Bette calling out in her head.

 _Sister, we've got a child on the way!_

And they'd got up.

Walked the house together, to strengthening pain.

Drank water, nibbled crackers.

And waited.

 _I'm not sure we're ready for this, sister._

Rubbed their conjoined back through the aches.

 _I know, Bette. But I want to finally hold our baby, don't you?_

Counted the minutes between each contraction.

 _Yes, I do._

Breath hissing between their teeth through them.

 _And I'm right here with you._

Went to relieve their shared bladder. Again.

 _Of course, you are, sister. Where else would you be?_

Rechecked all their baby supplies.

 _Oh hush you._

And somwhere near dawn, watched as their water broke all over the kitchen floor.

 _Dot, I think it's time to wake Jimmy our darling._

 _Yes, I agree. But first let's clean up this mess._

And so they had.

* * *

And so Ma had been right.

The baby was a girl.

And she was perfect, just perfect.

From her wispy blond hair.

To her ten little fingers and toes.

To her startling heterchromia.

From the the time she opened her tiny little eyes, her doting moms and dad could not stop staring at them.

One brown, one bright blue.

Bette and Dot, exhausted from literally the fruits of their labor, gently snuggled their newborn daughter in their trembling arms.

 _Oh sister, she's absolutely beautiful._

The tiny babe lay swaddled in a soft pink blanket quilted for her by her adoring mothers even as she had still developed within them.

 _Yes, just perfect._

And Jimmy, as he carefully lay down next to Dot's side, gazed into the child's face.

And thought of Ma.

Her eyes had been blue, this very blue. It was like she was peeking out at him.

And winking in that confident, knowing way she'd had that last night when she'd come to reassure him.

 _Told ya, son,_ she seemed to be saying even now. _Just perfect._

 _You were right, Ma. You were right._

And Jimmy cried then. But they were happy tears as he tenderly kissed his daughter.

"What are we going to name her?"

* * *

 **Hello, Freak Show friends! How've you been? :)**

 **Interested in this continuation? I'm planning for it to span a coupla decades with happiness, growing pains, angst, love, and real life all wrapped up together in something unique to this little family but relatable to us all.**

 **Yeah, yeah, I know, we've got Hotel now and I have written for it but I've just got a soft spot for these guys, you know?**

 **And I won't be updating more than once or twice a week 'cause my plate's a little full at least until Christmas break.**

 **Well, anyway, let me know.**

 **Everybody appreciates feedback. Leave a review if you like.**


	2. Love the Baby

I do not own American Horror Story: Freak Show.

And I really want to have fun with this story. :)

And Baby Makes Four

Love the Baby

* * *

The fact of the matter was that most fathers of the era saw themselves as the breadwinners. Out to work every day, home every night.

Caring for the family without a doubt.

But not involved so much in the child rearing aspect of it.

Playing catch with son in the backyard, dancing with daughter at her wedding.

Bouncing young ones on his knee for a minute or two, handing out allowances.

Proudly, gingerly holding baby for pictures.

But involved in the daily grind, perhaps not so much.

It wasn't that they didn't care, it's that they were the men.

They were Father.

Jimmy however grew up in a transient carny lifestyle with no permanency, no upstanding societial teachings, no father.

So he didn't know how to be Father.

He just naturally became Daddy.

He couldn't do everything the Mommies could do.

He was quite ill equipped to feed his little girl to say the least, having no milk producing mammary glands whatsoever.

He feared bathing a helpless infant, changing a diaper, having no hands and absolutely terrified of damaging his squirming daughter's tender skin with his metal hooks.

But he could love. He could hold. He could snuggle and cradle and adore.

And so every day he raced home from the store, exchanged his metal hooks for wooden hands. Which Bette and Dot wrapped in soft cloth mittens to provide added cushioning for the child's delicate body.

Kissed his darlings, told them he loved them.

Sat himself down in a chair or the sofa or the bed if he were particularly weary.

And held his newborn. Wrapped her up safely in his arms. Cradled her close to his chest.

And gazed at her.

Perfectly formed limbs. Pale, umblemished skin. Wispy, blond hair.

And her mismatched yet perfectly suited eyes if she were awakeful.

He kissed her little nose, her smooth forehead, her tiny balled up fists.

He rubbed his face gently to hers, smiling dopily as she cuddled back in her instinctive babyness.

And talking to her, always talking to her.

". . . always be your daddy. I'll always be here for you. Even when you don't want me to, I'll be here . . ."

". . . mamas, they're good women, the best, and they love you more than you can ever imagine . . ."

". . . didn't always have these stumps, you know. I used to have real hands, lobster hands. I always hated 'em. But now I wish more than anything else that I could hold you with 'em . . ."

". . . not gonna let you get lost like I did. I'm always gonna take take care you, you and your mamas . . ."

He told her everything, things he knew he probably shouldn't be voicing to a child. But he wanted to tell her just once, everything now while she was young and innocent like this.

So she would know him, forgive him and absolve him and he could live free in her tiny miraculous eyes.

" . . . ridiculous blue eye shadow I never could understand how she thought she looked good . . ."

". . . tall and strong but was so tender and gentle to everyone. Well, except Dell that time, but he deserved it . . ."

" . . . walk on her hands, you really should've seen it . . ."

" . . . always kept his head up, never let those short arms get to him, not that I could see . . ."

" . . . should have protected her, she was so tiny . . ."

" . . . brave, stuck there with Dandy, I don't think I would've been . . ."

" . . . really didn't mean any harm, he was just a little weirdo . . ."

And the more Jimmy talked, the more he felt cleaned out all over again. The more he hated what he had been, so messed up and a shame to his mama and all his friends.

And the more he resolved to be better from here on out.

For himself.

For his darling wives.

And his darling baby girl.

"I love you, Annabel Margaret Walker. I love you and I'll always take care of you. I promise."

* * *

And what did his darlings, her mamas, do while Jimmy basked in the peacefulness of his baby girl?

Being sternly banned from household cooking and cleaning duties by their friends Lucy Barrett and Kathy Clark, they found they themselves quite unencumbered and free during the time Jimmy proudly asbconded with their daughter after work.

Being exhausted from the near constant feedings and quite sore from the act of bringing their child into the world, at first, they slept.

Just slept.

And healed from their physical ordeal.

During that first month, Kathy visited every day for an hour or two to clean. Provide a filling lunch for the nursing mothers. Trade light chitchat, if her friends were so inclined.

And, of course, adore the baby.

Lucy would arrive in the evenings to deliver their supper. Retrieve and drop off the neverending baskets of baby and adult laundry.

Provide a gentle bathing of the child herself.

And, of course, adore the baby.

Jimmy, quite of his own volition, did what he could and learned to do more.

Because he loved his darlings and the baby.

Dan Clark, Jimmy's former boss and current friend, even got in on the act. Coming out of retirement temporarily, taking charge of the store an afternoon or two a week, a Saturday morning there.

Though he sternly admonished, with a gleam in his eye, that retirement fishing was much too good for Jimmy to get used to it.

And he also, loved the baby.

Though they were young and thusly deemed short time visitors for the mental health and well being of the adapting parents, George and Patty were also welcomed into the presence of the newborn joy.

And gently ushered out before they could fully launch their full assault of questions, innocent comments, and neverending interrogations upon the exhausted mommies and daddy.

At least for the time being. Just until everyone started getting more sleep anyway.

And so the mothers, their lovely baby, and the doting daddy were well and gently cared for by their small but loyal circle of friends during that first overwhelming month of initial transition from married folks to functional parents.

And everyone adored and loved the baby.

* * *

 **Hey, everyone! Thanks for coming back this new installment of our sweeties. I'm thrilled so many are gung-ho for it, yay!**

 **Thanks to brigid1318, the 1upguy, DinahRay, midnightrebellion86, Bumblebee93, haily94, PurpleMuggle, autumnrose2010, Jurana Keri, and frankenkylee for those encouraging come back reviews.**

 **Thanks also to Allie Dixon Langdon, KitsurieYokai1993, dreenalyse, echoxknox, latinaangel38, missrevenge98, and queen-townsend for adding your support to this new tale.**


	3. The Unfortunateness of Situational ADHD

I do not own American Horror Story: Freak Show.

And this chapter is total therapy.

And Baby Makes Four

The Unfortunateness of Situational ADHD

* * *

" . . . want to go Christmas shopping with Lucy . . ."

" Who's Daddy's sweet girl?"

" . . . of course, she'll need to wait to go after school one day . . ."

"That's right, you are, Annabel . . ."

It had been happening ever since Annabel had been born.

". . . so Kathy can keep her . . ."

"Who's got your toes? Who's got your toes? Does Daddy have your toes . . ."

More and more frequently as the baby had become more wakeful, more active. More of a person instead of an adorable lump.

" . . . and then we'll need to go shopping for Lucy . . ."

"What did you do, Annabel? What did you do? Did you spit up on Daddy? Yes, you did . . ."

" . . . but we want to go with you as well so . . ."

At first, it had been kind of cute. The level of adoration and focus.

" . . . that's okay, baby girl, you can spit up on Daddy all you want . . ."

But now after a couple of months, it was becoming less so.

"Jimmy."

He glanced at them temporarily.

"We were trying to ask you about . . ."

Before returning his worshipful gaze to the slightly moist baby in his lap.

"Is that poop face? Are you giving me poop face, Annabel Margaret . . ."

And now they were finally good and frustrated.

"Jimmy."

"Yes it is, it is poop face. And I think it's the cutest poop face in the whole wide wor-"

" _Jimmy_."

He glanced up again.

"We're trying to talk to you."

He grinned winningly.

"Yeah, I know. I'm listening."

And earned disbelieving looks from his darlings.

"No, you're not."

His dimples faded a touch.

"Sure. I am. Aren't I, Annabel baby, aren't I, I've been listening to them, yes I have-"

"What have we been saying?"

He paused, brow furrowed. Then finally rallied.

"Something about Kathy's birthday?"

Identical glares seared his skull.

"No . . ."

". . Jimmy, you don't pay attention to us anymore. You don't listen."

"Yeah, I do-"

"No, you don't, Jimmy."

"But-"

"Annabel's precious, Jimmy, the best. But please don't forget about us. We're important too."

And then they walked away, toward the door to the backyard.

 _You know he can't get up or go anywhere without someone taking the baby._

 _I know, sister, I just need a breath of fresh air. Just for a second. Before I shake him._

And behind them, Daddy Jimmy watched them go.

 _What'd I do? I thought I was just . . . awww, look at that sweet baby smile, I know it's just gas but . . ._

* * *

"Why are we leaving Annabel with Lucy, Jimmy? We have to feed her in a little while."

He charmed them with his dimples.

"Yeah, I know. This won't take long."

It had been a few days and their ire with Jimmy their darling had cooled.

So they were receptive to what would later be referred to by psychology experts as 'quality time'.

But not quite physically receptive to _all_ types of quality time.

 _Oh dear, sister, I don't think I'm quite ready for bedroom activities._

 _No, neither am I._

 _It's been a while for him though. How are we going to tell him . . ._

And then, led by the arm by their Jimmy, they walked directly into their small kitchen.

And into a candlelit dinner.

 _Oh . . ._

A small, simple meal.

Baked chicken, mashed potatoes. Green beans, rolls. Iced tea.

Bette spoke sweetly as Dot's mouth curved into a smile.

"How did you do this, Jimmy? You don't cook."

He looked sheepish.

"I told Lucy I was in the doghouse and asked her if she would help me."

Now both of his lovely darlings were smiling fondly at him.

"What'd she do?"

His chagrin deepened.

"Laughed and hugged me."

They giggled at their sweet, gentle man, having finally listened to their earlier distress and obviously was now trying to rectify the situation.

"Oh Jimmy . . ."

He hooked their chair out for them and they sat delightedly in their plain housedress and slightly baby mused hair.

And enjoyed a private, baby free dinner and conversation with Jimmy their darling.

For about fifteen minutes.

That completely involved talking about the baby.

 _You know, sister, we really should talk about something else . . ._

 _Yes, I suppose, but what?_

 _Well . . . I really can't think of a single thing . . ._

And as they shared a secret smile, Jimmy gazed happily at them.

 _They're so beautiful . . . wonderful . . . and I love talking about our baby . . ._

As Bette and Dot rose to clear the dishes, Jimmy rose with them. Stayed their hands from the waiting cleanup.

And gathered them unto himself.

Wrapped up warmly in their husband's embrace, Bette and Dot relaxed against him. And listened to his voice speak with sincerity.

"I love you, Bette, Dot. I'm sorry I hurt your feelings. You're both very important to me. I'll try to remember to show you more."

They smiled and kissed his cheeks and held him close for a few more seconds as they whispered.

"Thank you, Jimmy."

Then they kissed him again and felt his body question though he himself did not.

Pulling slightly away, Dot gently spoke for them both.

"Jimmy, we're not sure if we're ready yet . . ."

Lack of understanding held sway on his handsome face for a second before being replaced by a fleeting shadow of disappointment which was quickly wiped away by a reassuring smile.

"Oh, that's okay. I'm not trying to get in your pants yet . . ."

 _And why the heck_ not _?_

 _Sister!_

 _What . . ._

"I just want you both to know you're still important to me."

And he tenderly kissed his darlings.

 _Awww, how sweet . . ._

 _Oh yes, sister, we've got a good one._

 _Still not quite ready for . . ._

 _Well no, not quite._

 _But soon . . ._

 _Yes, I think soon . . ._

And they let him kiss them a while longer.

* * *

 **Hey, peeps! Little conflict, little resolution here. Doesn't mean Jimmy's a bad dad or a bad husband. Just lost in babyworld. Trust me, it's a thing.**

 **And hey, he tries to make up for it :)**

 **On a serious note, rest in peace, Rose Siggins, aka Legless Suzi. I pray your children are able to go out into the world and find happiness and peace having such an inspirational, brave mother as you seemed to be.**

 **Thanks to DinahRay, brigid1318, haily94, midnightrebellion86, frankenkylee, rjoy11, and autumnrose2010 for your lovely reviews.**

 **Thanks also to SoCloseToYou for adding your support as well.**


	4. Home for the Holidays

I do not own American Horror Story: Freak Show.

And I really want to have fun with this story. :)

And Baby Makes Four

Home for the Holidays

* * *

That year, overcome with family happiness and holiday cheer, Jimmy went a little overboard with the Christmas decorations.

To put it mildly.

He wouldn't turn them on or even let his darlings see it until he was completely done.

Then . . .

"Hey, Bette! Dot! You gotta see this!"

"Just a minute, darling . . ."

". . . we're putting the baby down to sleep."

He was standing just outside the door, radiating manly, outdoor decorating pride..

"No, no, bring her too! She'll love it! There's a big Santa on the roof . . ."

"Jimmy," Bette smiled gently. "She can't see past my arm . . ."

". . . she may not appreciate them as much as you hope," Dot concluded kindly hoping not to dampen his spirits.

They needn't have worried.

He was completely unsinkable.

"Naw, it'll be great, she'll love it! Come on . . ."

 _I don't think I've seen him so excited about Christmas before._

 _I don't think I've seen so excited about_ anything _before._

 _Precious man._

 _Yes, so precious._

So they rose from the rocker with their owlish babe in their arms.

And followed their Jimmy out into the small, now slightly crowded, yard.

"Okay, ready? . . . Ta-da!"

And there they stood, beholding a winter wonderland.

In the mild, seventy-five degree Florida evening.

"Oh wow, Jimmy. It looks like . . ."

 _Don't say 'a carnival', sister . . ._

". . . daylight out here."

Jimmy grinned boyishly, his hooks delicately atop each slim shoulder.

"Yeah, it's great, isn't it?"

As he stood there gazing at the multicolored lights wrapped around wire shaped silhouettes of snowmen and elves and Santas and reindeer, he felt even happier and inwardly warmer than usual.

And he had the thought that if he glanced to the right just then, he'd see Ma standing there with them, smiling her pleased, knowing little smile.

 _Think you, uh, got enough lights on the place, son?_

 _Naw,_ he'd grin impishly. _Can't see it from space yet._

His darlings were lovely, bathed in the glow of the holiday extravaganza.

"I can't believe you spent so much money on decorations," Bette ventured hesitantly, knowing how consentious Jimmy usually was regarding the family finances.

Jimmy shrugged nonchalantly.

"Well, it's Annabel's first Christmas. And Pat down at the hardware store gave me a good deal for not turning his nephew into the cops when he tried to steal the store's deli slicer."

Bette looked surprised.

"Really? That old thing? It's a beast!"

Jimmy shook his head goodnaturedly a little, still staring at the lights.

"Yeah, on a dare. Nearly gave himself a hernia though. Never moved the slicer an inch. Poor kid. Found him groaning on the floor."

They shared a chuckle among them.

"Hey, what's the baby think of the lights?" he inquired eagerly after a moment. "Does she like them?"

There was a slight pause.

"Well, maybe. She's sort of . . . asleep."

Jimmy glanced down.

Was silent for a second.

Then burst forth once more.

"Naw, she's smiling, she loves it!"

She was indeed, their little milk-drunk babe. Smiling in her sleep.

Though it was likely just gas.

But they didn't tell him that.

* * *

It was one of those quiet moments where all the messes and crying bouts and sleep deprivation in the world doesn't hold a candle to the beauty and tranquility of the moment.

The only light in the room emanated from the softly glowing, tinseled and oramented Christmas tree.

The baby lay in her bassinet near them, swaddled securely in her blanket, silken little lids closed deep in sleep over her heterchromiated eyes.

Christmas music played quietly in the background.

Jimmy and his darlings snuggled together on the couch, Bette and Dot reclining against his chest. Half drowsing and conversing quietly as Christmas day drew to a close.

It had been a joyful one, filled with relaxation, good friends and family.

And of course, properly decadent Christmas food and thoughtfully chosen presents.

"It was a good day."

"A good Christmas."

"Good anniversary too."

They all smiled with contentment.

"Kathy and Thomas are throwing a New Year's Eve party," Jimmy commented lightly. "She invited us when she came into the store yesterday."

Bette and Dot were quiet.

"I know you've been stuck in the house a lot lately."

They didn't respond.

"So we could go if you like. Ask Lucy to keep Annabel."

Dot's hand stroked his cheek. Bette's, his knee.

"Would you like to?" Dot asked of him.

He shrugged a little.

"I don't care. It's up to you two."

Bette yawned widely and closed her eyes.

"I think we'd rather just stay in. And sleep."

Jimmy grinned gently.

"How about you, Dot?"

Her reply came in the form of a soft snore.

Bette giggled softly.

"Still," she murmured, her hand gliding up his thigh slowly. "I bet we could work out some sort of celebration festivities to ring in the new year."

Jimmy grinned wider.

"Think so?"

Her fingers drew soft lazy circles on the fabric of his pants.

"Mmmhmm . . ."

And then she too dozed off.

Jimmy sat there, mildly turned on and extremely sleepy.

 _Good idea, good idea._

He yawned, jaw cracklingly wide.

 _But maybe just a little nap first._

And he too, the lone familial Yuletide sentry, drifted away.

For about two minutes.

"Waaaaaahhhhhh . . ."

 _Okay, maybe later._

* * *

As per family decision, New Year's was a quiet, homebound affair.

Well, mostly quiet.

"Wow . . . that . . . was . . . great . . ." Jimmy gasped, collapsing prone next to his darlings.

Bette and Dot, shared bosom heaving, murmured breathy agreements.

"Sorry didn't . . . last longer," their spent husband apologized. "It's been a . . . while."

Twin giggles. A dry retort.

"We only had a baby six weeks ago, darling. Longer might not have been better."

This sobered their raging stallion and he rolled back over toward them, concerned.

"Did I hurt you?"

Bette shook her head as Dot answered.

"No, we would have stopped you if it had."

He nodded slowly.

"I hope so."

They reached out and kissed him tenderly.

"You're so sweet, Jimmy . . ."

". . . we've missed being with you like this."

He flashed them his dimples fondly.

"I've missed you two."

A beat of silence.

"Wanna go again?"

Bursts of female laughter, a hopeful grin from the man himself.

"No, not quite yet. Besides, we have to get the baby soon."

He took it in stride.

"Ok. Probably for the best anyway. I might die."

So they curled up together.

"Happy New Year, Dot. Happy New Year, Bette."

More giggles.

"Jimmy, it's only 7:30."

He yawned.

"Yeah, but . . . you know . . ."

And then they all fell asleep together.

Just for a little while.

* * *

 **Peace and joy to everyone, whatever you celebrate.**

 **Thanks to DinahRay, midnightrebellion86, brigid1318, autumnrose2010, and The Cry-Wank Kid for your reviews. You guys are great!**


	5. Five Yards of Cloth

I do not own American Horror Story: Freak Show.

And I really want to have fun with this story. :)

And Baby Makes Four

Five Yards of Cloth

* * *

Long about February, Daddy Jimmy's well of patience ran dry.

He had no hands, lobster or otherwise.

And he really wanted to hold his baby girl.

Oh, he held her while he was sitting, sure. But he wanted to _move_ and hold her.

Walk with her.

Dance with her.

Show her the world.

Or at least his neighborhood, the store, the town.

Yeah, okay, the world as he knew it.

But he didn't have any hands to hold her with.

And his hooks, his wooden hands, just weren't safe.

They were good to brace with. But to grip his baby girl safely, securely.

No.

And his frustration was clear.

Whenever he had to relinquish her to her mamas, or Lucy, or Kathy, those people not stupid enough to sell away their real, living, dexterous, fingered appendages, his usual happy countenance would fracture.

Revealing the misery within to those without.

And the baby, in all truth, did not help. For babies, you see, are the most honest creatures in all the world.

They don't try to spare your feelings or be their better selves.

They are what they are and how they feel at the moment they are in.

End of story.

So when someone cooed at little Annabel Margaret and she wiggled excitedly to be picked up because that meant movement, change of perspective, something new and different, Daddy Jimmy's heart ached painfully.

Because he himself was unable to provide for her what she needed, wanted.

And when someone came to take the baby for whatever reason and she cried and leaned her body back in the direction of daddy, signifying that she did not want to separated from him, his heart broke.

And he felt grief, misery. Shame.

That he was less of a man than what he should be.

That he couldn't be what she needed.

And that it ultimately was no one's fault but his own.

He tried to remember to be grateful.

Grateful for his lovely darlings and their reciprocated love.

Grateful for his friends and their support and encouragement of him and his special little family.

Grateful for life, his freedom.

His store, his way of providing monetary support to his family.

His house, the small, cozy shelter where his family abided, day in and day out, together in acceptance and love.

His little miracle of a child, with her strange, beautiful eyes and bright smile.

His living, breathing life.

And he did.

And he was.

But he wanted more. He wanted to hold her, move with her.

And felt anger, resentment, when faced with those able fathers who had all of the ability to hold their precious children and none of the desire.

And, because they loved him and cared about him, his darlings noticed.

 _Our Jimmy is unhappy, sister._

 _Yes, he is._

So they tried to talk to him about it.

But he wouldn't.

Because there wasn't any reason to.

They couldn't fix his lack of hands. They couldn't deaden his aching daddy heart to not care.

So what was the point in upsetting them too?

They couldn't help.

* * *

But actually, they could.

It took some time to figure out how.

But they did.

Because they had figured out everything else that was impossible in their lives.

And so they figured this out too.

 _Sister, I do believe we need to take a special trip to the fabric store._

 _Yes, I agree._

So they waited one day until Jimmy had gone to work on a Saturday afternoon and called upon their good friend, Lucy.

Who rode with them to the fabric store.

Helped pick out the perfect cloth.

And served as a model for most of the morning and afternoon.

They forgot to nourish themselves (but not the baby) and paused only when their backs were aching too much to continue.

And when it was done, they examined their masterpiece with excitement and more than a little trepidation.

 _Well, it certainly is a unique solution._

 _Yes._

 _Very bold._

 _Yes._

 _Do you think he'll go for it?_

 _Only one way to find out._

And so they waited.

And waited.

And waited.

And when Jimmy walked in the front door that evening, it was to brighter smiles than he'd seen in a long time.

Which of course, he returned.

Because it's what he, even through his growing depression and despair, _chose_ to do.

"Good evening, _darling_ ," Dot trilled happily as Bette kissed him.

"Hey."

"And how was your day?"

He shrugged.

"Same old. You two?"

Dot dark eyes gleamed as Bette responded.

"Wonderful!"

He nodded in what he hoped was a satisfied manner.

"In fact, we thought we'd go out for a walk with you and Annabel before supper."

His agreement could not have been more leaden.

And as he turned to face the outside world, resigned to the knowledge that his little girl would be safe and secure in her mothers' arms during the walk, Bette called out.

"Wait, darling, we have something for you first."

They came toward him, his brilliant wives, holding a long train of blue and yellow striped cloth.

Smiling.

Even through his gloom, it roused his curiosity.

"What's this?"

They smiled proudly.

"A gift for Daddy."

And they bound him up.

Around the chest, under the arms, over the shoulders, trussed and tied.

As he stood befuddled and swathed in cloth.

And finally they stood back, smiling and immensely satisfied with themselves.

 _It's perfect, sister._

 _Yes, it is, sister._

 _Only took eight years to tie him up._

 _Yes, but doesn't it fit him nicely?_

 _Not yet. Just needs one final touch._

Jimmy, their darling, asked his one and only question to them during this entire process.

"Well, now that you've got me all mummied up, what are you going to do with me?"

Bette and Dot positively beamed at him.

"Let you carry your daughter."

And they picked up the wakeful babe from her bassinet where she'd been lying quietly.

Brought her to her daddy.

And tucked her in, snugly and securely, close to his chest.

She squirmed and fussed only for the shortest of minutes, having never been held so.

Then looked up in her daddy's tear-filled dark eyes.

And smiled.

And he, the now truly grateful daddy, said goodbye to his growing sorrow.

And smiled back.

And that's how Daddy Jimmy got to embrace his little girl and show her the world.

And it only took five yards of cloth.

* * *

 **Don't think this was as commonplace during this time period as it is now. Especially not with dads.**

 **But hey, these dear people of ours aren't common place, are they? Nope. And so neither will their solutions always be.**

 **Thanks to DinahRay, brigid1318, autumnrose2010, midnightrebellion86, Purple Muggle, LuciaDiAngelo, and guest Amber (wow, just wow) for those great reviews!**

 **Thanks to the silent readers of this fic as well.**


	6. The Ups and Downs of 1961

I do not own American Horror Story: Freak Show.

But I really am enjoying writing this story. :)

And Baby Makes Four

The Ups and Downs of 1961

* * *

Time flies fast and crawls oh so slow with a new baby.

There's all the time in the world and no time at all to capture and hold on to those precious memories. Especially in the first year of life.

Bette and Dot and their darling Jimmy learned that all too well. And enjoyed every minute of it.

Well, almost every minute.

* * *

"Annabel Margaret Walker, just what do you think you are doing? We just changed your diapey only a minute ago!"

Heedless of her Mama Bette's playful admonishment, the tiny, delicate, doll-like beauty continued to turn a dark shade of red and grunt as she deposited something decidedly undelicate and undoll-like into the cloth diaper her mothers had just changed her.

 _Sister, I fear we may spend the remainder of our natural born lives washing poo out of these cloth diapers._

 _Yes, I wish we could just throw them away and be done with it!_

 _Oh, the grandeur of that idea! Dirty diapers you could just throw out into the trash! We should get some!_

 _Oh, that's silly. The notion of spending money on diapers you're only going to use once._

Then they opened the their daughter's newly delivered package, firmly encased in a non disposable, handwashed, cloth diaper.

 _Oh dear, sister!_

 _Changed your mind on the wastefulness of disposable diapers?_

 _No . . . well . . . no . . ._

* * *

"Bette! Dot! Come quick, come quick!"

The Siamese twin mamas weren't natural runners.

But they sure put a good effort into it at the hysterical tone in Daddy Jimmy's voice.

 _Oh dear Lord, sister, what . . ._

 _I don't know. Move faster!_

Only a few steps from the kitchen counter to the hall to baby's room where they found both Jimmy and his baby girl flat out on the floor.

Smiling.

At the baffled mamas with their fear constricted lungs and pounding hearts.

"What?! What?!"

Jimmy could not have been prouder from his giddy position on the baby rug.

"She did it! She rolled over! All by herself!"

It took a moment for the new development to sink in.

Then . . .

 _I'm going to kill him._

 _I'll help you, Bette._

And just as they opened their mouths to give the unbelievably stupid man crouching on the carpeted floor the tongue lashing of his life for scaring them so, he saved himself.

"Watch!" he exclaimed, carefully rolling his talented little daughter carefully back onto her belly with his wooden, mitten covered hands.

The pink clothed babe, looking slightly miffed at her father as if to say 'hey, what gives, Pop, I just got here', remained upright on her forearms for several seconds . . .

Before leaning her wispy blond head to the right . . .

And rolling right over onto her back again.

Mamas Bette and Dot gasped together.

The baby's arms and legs failed for a moment.

Daddy Jimmy cheered.

And the mamas completely forgot their anger.

"Oh, Annabel! What a big girl, you are!" Bette cried.

"Put her back on her belly!" Dot urged. "See if she'll do it again!"

After several more rounds of rolling, followed by enthusiastic cheers and clapping from her proud parental units, Daddy Jimmy paused.

"Isn't she great?! Such a big girl! . . . What's that smell?"

 _What smell . . ._

 _Oh sister!_

 _The chicken!_

They ended up eating leftover sandwiches with their mashed potatoes and English peas that evening.

And they just didn't care.

* * *

Every mama gets consumed with her child in the beginning. The constant feedings, changings, worries, concerns, dotings, exhaustions.

Even with the best daddies, friends, helpers in the mix, it happens.

For a time, the mama forgets she is anything other than a mama.

And that's okay.

Until it's not.

Mama Bette woke up from her mid-afternoon nap to a quiet, clean house.

Supper wasn't due for another few hours and all the preparations were already in place.

Somehow the laundry was done and nothing required immediate cleaning or attention.

And the baby was still asleep.

Dot laying sleeping next to her, so peaceful and serene her sister hated to wake her.

So she lay there in the quiet for several minutes, making a list in her head of everything to be done for the next several days.

And found herself completely exhausted.

 _I'm more tired than I was before the nap_ , she lamented wearily.

Then her eyes fell on a book laying on the coffee table that Lucy had brought over several days before.

 _I used to enjoy a good book now and again, didn't I ?_

And she carefully, without disturbing her conjoined sister, reached out and picked it up.

Twenty-seven minutes later . . .

 _'He had decided to live forever or die in the attempt, and his only mission each time he went up was to come down alive.'_

 _Yawn, what are we reading, sister?_

 _Catch-22. Shhh . . ._

 _Oh, that's interesting. I seem to remember we used to read books, didn't we?_

 _Yes we did and this one's good. Shhh. . . ._

 _But . . ._

 _Shhh . . ._

* * *

Jimmy's smoothly crafted wooden hand (the _other_ one, thankfully) came in quite handy for the child as it turned out.

They were watching an evening show the first time they noticed it.

"Holy atomic rock pile, Batman!"

Jimmy was bemusedly enthralled.

 _Does anyone actually talk like that? It's bizarre._

"You know, I think the baby might be teething."

He shifted his head slightly to the left at Dot's voice but his eyes remained glued on the screen.

 _Well, hello, Catwoman! I mean, I love my wives, I love my wives . . ._

"Really? Why do you think?"

Bette replied dryly.

"Because she's chewing on your thumb."

And she was. On both acccounts.

 _Oooh, she is going to gnaw us to death at her next feeding._

 _Oh no. Well then, I suggest we start on your side._

 _Sister!_

 _What . . ._

* * *

A red rubber ball. A slightly disheveled baby doll whose eyes closed when you tilted her back.

Three moist ABC blocks.

Annabel Margaret had forsaken all of these in favor of this new mystery.

The eight month old with the springy blond hair sat up proudly, all by herself like the big girl she was.

Pink frilly spring dress and little white socks and white bow in danger of falling from a curl.

Watching with open curiosity as her mamas sat on the floor before her and slowly cranked the handle on the side of the colorful clown box.

The tune was tinny and just recognizable as 'Pop Goes the Weasel'.

The little girl was giggling and patting her hands excitedly together as her adoring father watched on, his dimpled face soaking in his baby daughter.

And then . . .

POP!

Out came Jack.

And over went Annabel.

Right onto her back, baby legs flailing at the air.

Ruffled pink baby bottom upended.

Her look of surpise might have have been good for a laugh.

Had it not been followed by a sudden burst of tears from the girl herself.

Her mamas Bette and Dot were appropriately dismayed and horrified.

Even as Daddy Jimmy let out a bark ofor sardonic laughter . . .

"Yeah, Annabel, clowns scare me too."

. . . scooping his little girl up with his wooden hands, letting her wrap her strengthening baby arms around her daddy's neck.

And kissed her face as she continued to wail.

And Jack went back in the box. And back on the shelf.

For the time being.

* * *

Jimmy would have face palmed himself.

If he'd had palms.

Or not minded a bruised face from slamming hand-shaped wood into it.

As it was, he just stared.

At his baby girl.

Who rarely bothered to crawl.

But, with a big, bright smile on her plump face, butt-scooted wherever she wanted to go.

He'd never seen anything like it.

Of course, he'd never been around that many babies before.

But they, in general, _crawled_.

Not this giggly, wiggly gyration across the floors of his house.

He'd tried. His darlings had tried.

Picked her up.

Set her knees and hands upon the floor.

Crawling position.

And she'd rock back and forth.

Crawl a few feet.

Then plop right back on her cloth diapered bottom.

And happily scoot along.

And upon reaching her chosen destination (the kitchen cabinets, the couch, somebody's leg), would proceed to put her little feet under her.

And pull up to standing position.

Grinning all the while.

Upon inspection, there didn't seem to be anything wrong with her arms and legs.

No reason why she didn't crawl.

She just didn't seem to want to.

So she did want she wanted.

And got where she wanted to go.

And baffled everyone who watched her.

* * *

She did eventually walk, right before her first birthday.

They were in the kitchen, the entire family.

". . . Kennedy has confirmed the first waves of American soldiers on their way to Saigon . . ."

Chatting over breakfast preparations.

". . . hopeful for a swift and short-lived involvement in this conflict . . .

And listening to the radio.

Then it happened.

"Dot! Jimmy! Look at this!"

Their little daughter stood near the kitchen table.

Alone on her own two slightly pigeoned-toed feet.

Her hands hovering out at her sides, as if stubbornly defying gravity.

Her parents waited with baited breath.

". . . twist again, like we did last summer . . ."

Her knees bobbed, just a little.

As if she were dancing to the song.

Or preparing to launch herself straight up into the air.

". . . like we did last year . . ."

And then she moved.

One confident, good step.

And fell.

Her mouth caught the edge of the chair leg.

And cut her lower lip right down the middle.

Causing her mamas and daddy to rush to comfort her as she screamed, her baby chin covered in blood.

The newly commenced conflict in Vietnam was nothing compared to upset of their precious baby girl.

She would be bruised and swollen for awhile.

And it would forever leave a thin white line, a battle scar from her first brave step out into the world.

But she would be fine.

After all, she was a Walker.

Well, a Darling-Tattler-Walker, to be precise.

And she would be fine.

* * *

 **Yeah, it's me, it's my scar. And my story. 'Cause it's a good one, worth preserving. In my opinion.**

 **Thanks to DinahRay, brigid1318, midnightrebellion86, autumnrose2010, haily94, and LuciaDiAngelo for those encouraging reviews :)**


	7. And Many More

I do not own American Horror Story: Freak Show.

But I really am enjoying writing this story. :)

And Baby Makes Four

And Many More

* * *

". . . dear Anna- _bel_ . . ."

The November 13th Florida day was bright and sunny. The weatherman had predicted rainshowers but so far not a cloud marred the clear blue sky.

The gathered guests of Miss Annabel Margaret Walker's first birthday sang to their tiny, excited girl-of-honor.

Perched in her highchair, a small piece of white . . .

 _No pink cupcakes, sister . . ._

 _Why?_

 _Just . . . makes me feel icky, that's all . . ._

. . . frosted chocolate cake before her.

Her mothers stood just behind her, gently grasping her eager little hands.

" . . . birthday to _you_!"

And helped her blow out the single candle.

Smooched her cheeks.

And released her hands.

The tiny tot looked up at them for a moment without comprehension.

Then down at the cake.

"Cay!" she crowed joyfully.

And smashed her little fists into it.

Her mothers gasped.

 _Did she . . ._

 _I don't believe it . . ._

 _Surely not . . ._

And stared in shock at their sweet little girl.

And her round, now frosting-ed face.

Licking cake bits from her fingers.

Her guests were laughing and smiling and talking.

But all that dwindled down to nothing.

Because . . .

"Cay!"

Their baby girl had just spoken her first word.

 _Oh sister . . ._

 _Yes . . ._

 _She's just . . ._

 _Yes . . ._

 _So grown up!_

They angled around to see her more clearly and she caught sight of them.

Grinned big and loving . . .

"Cay, Ma-da?"

And offered a handful of squished cake to Dot.

Who, brightly teary eyed, mutely shook her head.

Then to Bette.

"Cay, Ma-ba?"

 _Oh, Dot, she separates us! She sees us both differently!_

And then both mamas struggled not to weep as their Jimmy came over to them.

"What's the matter? What's wrong?"

He looked bewildered and a little worried.

"She sees us each differently! We're not just one mama, we're two!"

Jimmy's anxiety melted into relief.

"Well, of course you're two mamas . . ."

He glanced down at his baby girl who looked up at her daddy . . .

"Hey, baby girl . . ."

. . . grinned . . .

"Cay, Da-da?"

. . . and offered him squished cake.

"Awwwww!"

And happy tears now stood in the eyes of all three Walker parents.

Daddy Jimmy knelt down.

And let his little daughter's frosting smeared fingers carefully shove cake into his open mouth.

"Yum-yum!" he exclaimed enthusiastically, smacking his lips.

Causing her to shriek laughter and clap her palms together, spattering more cake everywhere.

Jimmy kissed his darlings gently, then his little darling on the crown of her head (the only place not covered in cake) and they laughed happily as their guests gathered 'round.

* * *

". . . lovely day for an outdoor party . . ."

Truthfully, Bette and Dot were only half listening to their friend as Kathy chattered on.

For they were watching the newly freed, cake-covered daughter toddling across the small yard.

The ever fascinated, ever vigilant Patty following along in her wake.

" . . . good idea, cleanup so much easier . . ."

Then the brave adventuress tripped over her own bare feet and tumbled to the ground.

 _Oh Dot!_

 _No, don't move. Just wait . . ._

And so they did, Bette's teeth clenched behind pressed lips.

As their tough little girl, her green bow dangling from a curl, clamored to her feet, shook off the comforting hand of her self-assigned guardian.

And continued her trek across the neatly mown, clean and clear jungle of their tiny backyard.

Babbling and talking to herself all the way.

Dot glanced over to see Jimmy engaged in conversation with Thomas and his father over no doubt the manliest of manly topics.

He caught her eye as well, grinned his dimples and threw her wink.

She grinned back.

And attempted to refocus on the still talking Kathy.

". . . during a hurricane one year and that was certainly a stressful gathering if I ever saw one . . ."

* * *

Annabel Margaret Walker was a amicable child, of that there was no doubt.

But when she wore out, she wore out big time.

Cake causing her hair to stick straight up, the little girl plopped down in the grass, rubbing her mismatched eyes and whining pitifully.

With a massively cute yawn, she attempted to stand again.

Only to stumble down once more.

And began to _squall_.

Her aunt Lucy reached her first and picked her up.

"What's wrong, sweet baby? Are you all tuckered out?"

To which the birthday girl replied by pushing against her auntie Lucy in a futile effort to get away.

And continuing to cry.

"Ma-da! Mad-ba!"

At the top of her tired lungs.

 _Awwww, she wants us, sister!_

 _Yes. Don't smile though. Might hurt Lucy's feelings._

So they screwed up their faces in a rich us of seriousness and reached for their daughter.

"We'll take her . . ."

"Yes, she must be very tired . . ."

 _Uh-oh, we didn't think this through._

 _Now_ we're _covered in cake._

 _Oh dear . . ._

"Man, she sure is dirty."

Little George Clark could always be counted not only to state the obvious but to do it in the most blunt way possible.

"Maybe you should hose her down with the water spicket," he suggested, pointing.

 _Not a bad idea, Bette._

 _We could get him too while we're at it._

 _Well, come in then . . ._

And they went inside the house.

Much to disappointment of young George.

* * *

Sweet little birthday girl Annabel was fussy during her rinse bath.

 _She does know water should stay in the sink, right?_

Yawning while her mothers diapered and dressed her.

 _How many arms does she have, sister?_

 _Six, I think._

And already drifting off when her mothers laid her in her crib.

 _Sweet little birthday girl._

 _Yes, she had a wonderful time._

They moved to their room to change into something not covered in birthday cake.

 _We'll be sticky all day._

 _Sure smells good though._

And grabbed up a robe as the bedroom door creaked open.

 _Need to get a lock on that door, sister . . ._

But relaxed when they saw it was only Jimmy.

"Hey, everything okay?" He asked, closing the door behind him.

Bette smiled as Dot nodded.

"Yes, we're changing out of cake clothes."

He smiled back, dark eyes roving freely.

"Oh, I don't know. Looks good to me."

And snuck forward to steal a kiss.

Or two.

Or three.

"Jimmy," Dot murmured as he attempted to pull them closer. "We still have guests!"

He nuzzled their necks, making them giggle.

"Eh, they'll be fine. George is showing off his orange-juggling skills."

 _Oh, sister, make him . . . ooooh . . . stop . . ._

 _You . . . oh my . . . make him stop . . ._

"Bette? Dot? Do you have any extra ice? George just hit himself in the eye with an orange . . ."

Since they were having trouble stopping their amorous husband themselves, Kathy helped them instead.

Well, that and George's orange-blackened eye.

* * *

 **So everybody survive the Yuletide? Good. Next up, New Year's. Which for me will probably peter out around 9:30 on the Eve, ha.**

 **Thanks to brigid1318, autumnrose2010, haily94, LuciaDiAngelo, midnightrebellion86 and DinahRay for your thoughtful reviews.**

 **You know what I appreciate about you guys? All of you like different parts of the chapters. It's very interesting to find out when I read the reviews. So keep telling me what you like and what resonated with you, yeah? It's very cool.**


	8. Words, Words, So Many Words

I do not own American Horror Story: Freak Show.

But I really am enjoying writing this story. :)

And Baby Makes Four

Words, Words, So Many Words

* * *

"Mine!"

"Well, no, sweetie, not exactly . . ."

"Mine!"

"Those are Daddy's, honey . . ."

"Mine!"

 _She's got amazing strength, sister._

 _I'm not sure if it's amazing strength or she just doesn't realize she can release . . ._

 _Either way, Jimmy's about to be late to open the_ _store._

"Annabel Margaret Walker, let it go!"

The baby girl with curly blond hair and heterchromiated eyes trembled, her lower lip pushed out pitifully.

And remained steadfastly gripped to the one thing to her daddy needed the most at that moment.

His shiny silver left hook.

Which was attached to his left wrist.

Which was attached to his arm.

To his shoulder.

To the man himself.

Torn between adoration of his daughter.

And responsibility to his job.

 _Suppose I could just call in sick, have Sam take charge today. And the next day. And the next . . ._

 _Do I really need a paycheck?_

 _Yes, idiot._

"Annabel, my pretty girl, I'll come home this afternoon, I promise."

His sweet pretty girl scrunched up her face in the stubborn determination of a toddler.

"Mine!"

 _Okay, sister, Daddy's about to crack._

 _Yes, this ends now._

And Annabel's gentle, loving Ma-da and Ma-ba swept her up in their arms, peeled her fingers one by one off her Da-da's metal hook.

And resolutely held on to the child who began to scream and cry and struggle now in earnest.

As Jimmy, helplessly torn between a ticking clock and wailing toddler, wavered on the spot, unable to stay or go.

"For Pete's sake, Jimmy, go, go!" Dot urged.

His dark eyes glued on his three miserable darlings.

"But . . ."

"She's not going to get better until after you leave!" Bette called over the escalating din.

And so against his better judgment, Jimmy went.

* * *

In Annabel's brightly-colored, freshly cleaned bedroom, a storm was raging.

They had set her down, her scratched and winded mothers.

And watched as their sweet little girl flung herself to the floor.

Kicking and screaming.

Big, snotty tears bubbling and drooling from her face.

She wailed herself exhausted.

And it only took twenty-five minutes.

And then she fell asleep on the rainbow rag rug in the middle of her room.

Her mothers, sitting in the rocker, within reach but out of range, realized they had pounding, identical headaches.

 _Dear Lord, sister . . ._

 _Yes, that was quite a tantrum._

 _No, Saturday's naptime was a tantrum. This was demonic possession._

 _Oh hush, stop exaggerating._

 _Exaggerating? Shall I wake her up then?_

 _Don't you dare!_

And so they watched her sleep a while longer.

 _The kitchen needs cleaning._

 _We'll get to it._

 _And the bathrooms . . ._

 _Later._

 _There's some laundry . . ._

 _Sister, I am going to sit here and be quiet and still. If you want to get things done, you are more than welcome to move our body to do them. I'm staying right here._

They shared a weary smile.

 _Fair enough, sister._

And rocked.

* * *

Jimmy called at lunchtime.

"Hey, is she okay?"

Bette holding the phone to her ear, wiped a smudge of mushed carrot from her cheek.

"Yes, darling, she is much better."

His sigh of relief was audible over the phoneline.

"Good. Well, I . . ."

Dot, guiding Annabel's spoon-gripped hand with her own, added her two cents.

"We're fine too, darling!"

Jimmy paused on the other end.

"Oh, uh, are you?"

Bette took a deep, stabilizing breath.

"Yes, darling, we are."

He seemed to hover over the phone line.

"Okay, well, I'll see you tonight."

"We love you."

"I love you two."

* * *

That night, Jimmy came home.

Hugged his now complacent baby girl.

Kissed his darlings.

Ate supper.

Played with Annabel during the cleanup.

And drove all three of his girls to Kathy's house.

Where his darlings deposited the smiling, giggling toddler into Kathy's waiting arms.

And rode further into town with Jimmy.

Parked the car.

And walked toward the brightly-lit marquee.

Now Showing:

To Kill a Mockingbird

Starring Gregory Peck

They diligently ignored the usual stares and whispers.

Purchased popcorn and cokes.

And sat in the cool, dim theater.

With their darling Jimmy at their side.

 _Ah, this is better._

 _Yes, it is, sister._

"Jem is up in a tree, he said he won't come down until you agree to play football with the Methodists."

 _Oh my. Sister dear, I believe we should have named our daughter 'Scout'._

 _Yes, it's quite possible she's going to be just like that._

 _Except with a mama._

 _Two, actually._

 _Absolutely, sister dear._

"There's a lot of ugly things in this world, son. I wish I could keep 'em all away from you. That's never possible."

 _I think I adore that man._

 _More than our Jimmy, sister?_

 _Well, of course not. But he's just so lovely._

"Miss Jean Louise. Miss Jean Louise, stand up. Your father's passing."

 _Did we bring any tissues, sister?_

 _No, why?_

 _I think our Jimmy needs some. He's sniffling._

 _Well, I am too._

 _Make that three._

* * *

The baby slept all through the pickup.

And the short car ride home.

And the transition to bed.

When Dot and Bette eased her door closed, they found their strangely quiet husband standing in their room, bare feet absently toeing the carpeted floor.

He had been quiet ever since the movie.

"Thank you for the movie, Jimmy. We needed an evening out."

His face cleared and he smiled fondly at them.

"It was good, wasn't it?"

They concurred.

And kissed him, gently massaging his stumped wrists.

"We love you."

"I love you two."

* * *

"Who needs a bath? Does Annabel need a bath?"

"No!"

Somewhere between Jon Glenn orbiting the Earth and the Cuban Missile Crisis, Annabel Margaret Walker's vocabulary started getting bigger.

"Who needs a nap? Does Annabel need a nap?"

"No!"

As annoying as it could be, it was also actually quite funny.

Sometimes they played with it a little.

"Who wants chocolate chip cookies? Does Annabel want chocolate chip cookies?"

"No!"

 _Don't giggle, don't giggle._

"Are you sure?"

"No!"

And so their little daughter became even more entertaining than before, enthusiastically wearing out her favorite words until she found new favorite ones.

* * *

There was one very specific new word that caused quite a stir.

That none of them really meant for her to learn.

It was Daddy Jimmy's fault.

Or rather the jar of olives that rolled off the fridge shelf and crashed onto his foot.

"Oh _shit_ , that hurt!"

"Shit!"

"Oh shit, no, you're not supposed to say . . ."

"Shit!"

"No, no, don't say that! I'll be in deep . . ."

"Shit!"

"Oh-"

"Shit!"

He very nearly hid in the bathroom when his darlings returned from their Sunday afternoon excursion with Lucy.

"Well, hello, my little darling! Did you have a good time with Da-"

"Oops, you fell on your bottom."

"Shit!"

"What?"

"Shit!"

"Uh, Jimmy, darling, could we talk to you for a second?"

 _Oh-_

"Shit!"

 _Yep, that's right, baby girl._

* * *

 **XD. I'm sorry, I had to do it. 'Cause that's my word and I'm trying really hard in the new year not to say it in front of my kids.**

 **Do you guys have any idea how difficult it is to _not_ to say a word when you're trying not say it?! Gah!**

 **Also, if you've never seen 'To Kill Mockingbird', you must. You simply must. Must.**

 **Thanks to DinahRay, brigid1318, autumnrose2010, midnightrebellion86, and LuciaDiAngelo for your loyal reviews.**


	9. Growing Up Walker

I do not own American Horror Story: Freak Show.

But I really am enjoying writing this story. :)

And Baby Makes Four

Growing Up Walker

* * *

An era was ending.

A baby era.

A toddler era.

A diaper era.

Because Annabel Margaret Walker was a big girl.

A two year old big girl.

And big girls went to the potty.

Her mothers of course, tenderly encouraged her.

"Ma-ba, pee!"

"Go, baby girl, go!"

There were some mishaps and slipups.

"Ooooh . . ."

"Not here! In the potty, baby girl, in the _potty_!"

A few messes, some wet floors.

 _Why don't we spend afternoon in the backyard? It's a good day for it._

 _It's_ raining _, Dot._

 _What is your point, Bette? She's going to be wet soon anyway._

 _Patience, sister . . ._

 _I know, I know._

But the sweet little girl and her determined mamas won out in the end.

Til she was all done with diapers.

 _I swear, sister, I'll bury them in the backyard_ tonight _._

 _I'll bring the trumpet to play 'Taps'._

 _We don't own a trumpet, Dot._

 _Oh, right._

* * *

They kept him informed, their darling Jimmy.

And of course he encouraged her when he was home.

But it didn't really hit him how far his little girl had come.

Until one night Jimmy and his lovely wives were watching TV with Annabel sprawled across them.

"Next up on The Lawrence Welk show . . ."

Suddenly the girl stirred and wiggled down to the the floor.

And headed out of the room.

Turning suddenly, she grinned, baby girl and grownup all at once.

"I'll be right back."

And headed into the bathroom, closing the door behind her.

Her parents stared in surprise as some blond beauty who'd never done housework in her life advertised the wonders of Ajax household cleaner on the forgotten black and white screen.

"Did she just. . ."

"Yes, Jimmy, darling, I believe she did."

It was Annabel's first complete sentence, clear and calm and concise.

She was two years old.

* * *

She liked to hum and sing to herself, did Annabel Margaret.

Mostly nonsense words in the carefree tuneless cadence of the very young.

And even though she was pale and blond and not dusky and bejeweled, sometimes it reminded him of Ma Petite.

And she would look up and smile and he would smile back through the lump in his throat.

And remind himself he would be better.

That they, his family, had made him better.

Because no matter what he was now, he still had started out as Jimmy Darling, the Lobster Boy.

Protective, caring.

And he still was.

Sometimes a bit more than his daddy heart could take.

". . . passing of Ms. Monroe as an untimely Hollywood tragedy . . ."

The nightly news couldn't be called joyous by any stretch of the imagination.

 _Oh dear, the men of the world will surely miss her bosoms._

 _Oh hush, Bette. She seemed, I don't know, sad. Lonely. Why wasn't there anyone there with her? Why was she alone?_

As they were musing over their grim considerations, they found their husband following a related, yet separate thought path.

"You know, I don't ever want her to like boys."

The twins' heads swiveled to face him.

"Who, darling?"

Jimmy nodded his head toward his small daughter, contentedly playing on the floor with some blocks.

His wives studied him for a few moments, playful smiles tracing across their identical faces.

"Would you prefer she like girls?" Dot questioned gently.

His new expression was priceless.

Stunned and bewildered and disgusted and considering all at the same time.

Finally, he mustered a few stammering words.

"No . . . well . . . no."

And their composure broke.

Bright smiles and light laughter accompanied their loving caresses of his cheek and sweet kisses.

"It's okay, darling . . ."

"We're not ready for it yet either."

"Mmmm, I love you two."

"We love you too, darling."

To which the tiny tyke on the floor piped up, having learned this response easily from her doting parents.

"Love you three!"

* * *

". . . green eggs and ham. I do not like them, Sam-I-Am!"

Jimmy paused in his path to the kitchen.

" _Green_ eggs and ham? What, have they gone bad? I wouldn't like them either!"

The three of them giggled and he grinned his dimple at them before continuing on.

" . . . would not, could not on a boat! I would not, could not with a goat . . ."

This time he didn't even pause.

"Well, that's good. Because that's called bestilality. And bestiality is _wrong_."

His daughter burst into giggles as her mothers gasped their laughter.

"Jimmy!"

"What? It's true! Think of how bad that _goat_ would feel. What is this book teaching my daughter?"

 _"Jimmy!_ "

"What?"

And he winked again at his little daughter giggling at her silly, silly daddy.

Having no idea at all what he was talking about.

As her mothers tried in vain to continue the story.

Even as their Jimmy discovered the perfect medium for his art.

". . . would not, could not in the rain . . ."

"I hope not. He'd get pneumonia."

" . . . in the dark. Not in a tree . . ."

"Fall out and stab himself in the butt with the fork."

". . . with a fox . . ."

"Especially if it has rabies."

Finally, swallowing both their laughter and growing frustration, they closed the book.

Set it down.

Picked up their precious daughter.

And handed her to her daddy.

Pecked him on the cheek.

Smooched their precious little one.

"Since you are such a divine orator, Jimmy darling, _you_ may read to her and put her to bed."

And sashayed away.

He stood, dumbfounded for a long moment, his little girl's soft, chubby arms wrapped comfortably around his neck as she rested in the crook of his arm,

"Uh, okay."

And cast around for a suitable book to read.

"Which one do you want, baby girl?"

She grinned big and happy.

"Eggs and Ham!"

 _Of course._

And so he sat down.

And tried to read.

"I do not like them, Sam-I-Am!"

Until . . .

"Daddy, no! Read _silly_!"

And so he did.

It was . . . different.

The fox got scurvy on the boat.

A whale ate the train and pooped it back out.

Among other changes.

But, in the end, just before Jimmy's nearly three year old daughter requested yet _another_ glass of water, the tall grouchy guy decided he did like green eggs and ham.

And then they were stolen by a pirate leprechaun who only ate green foods.

Like boogers.

* * *

 **Hey, loyal readers! Been gone from this story awhile, I know. My bad. So this is more of an ease back in.**

 **This chapter is dedicated to my husband. King of Bizarre Story Book Renditions. As well as singing pop songs (aka Lady Gaga) in the voice of Kermit the Frog. I love you, baby ;D**

 **Thanks to haily94, autumnrose2010, DinahRay, LuciaDiAngelo, midnightrebellion86, Bumblebee93, and brigid1318 for your kind reviews so long ago.**


	10. Out of the Blue

I do not own American Horror Story: Freak Show.

And you knew it couldn't always be sunshine and lollipops, right?

And Baby Makes Four.

Out of the Blue

* * *

They were enjoying a quiet, sunny day when there came a knock on their front door.

The three Walker females had been resting, planning an afternoon excursion when little Annabel awoke from her nap.

But then Dot and Bette opened the door . . .

 _Oh, I hope it's not another vacuum cleaner salesman._

 _Well, I still blame_ him _for showing up on Halloween._

. . . and beheld a police officer on their doorstep.

They knew him vaguely, having seen him patron Jimmy's grocery store from time to time.

Jimmy of course proudly introducing his wives to the civil servant.

And the man having the dignity to respond back to the two headed, one bodied twin wives of the double hook-handed proprietor.

So they knew him.

A little.

Which seemed to make it all the worse when he suddenly and without provocation appeared on their doorstep in the middle of the day.

 _Oh, Dot._

 _Yes, sister_.

"Dot. Bette. I need you to come with me please."

Through their pounding heartbeats, Bette dimly heard Dot speak.

"Where?"

"The hospital."

* * *

They hurried along, caring not a bit about the whispers and stares that followed in their wake.

Astringent smells. Sickly aromas.

Steady beeping. Squeaky nurse shoes.

The glare of the flourescent lighting. Stark white walls.

A deepening chill burrowing itself into their bones. Cold, clammy hands clutching at each other's.

 _Breathe, sister. Keep breathing._

 _I can't, Bette. What if he . . ._

 _He won't._

 _But what if . . ._

 _No._

The police officer led the way, walking briskly, though torturously slow.

"ICU, bed 3."

"Yes, sir. And these . . ."

A brief, thirty year pause.

". . . women . . . are his . . ."

The officer's tone was curt and brooked no conversation judgement or arguement.

"Bette and Dot Walker to see him, yes."

Another century passed.

"Yes, sir."

And they were ushered in.

 _Oh god, sister . . ._

He was pale against the sheets. Too pale.

And deathly still.

And someone was talking.

". . . a significant amount of blood . . ."

". . . stabilized for the time being . . ."

". . . yet to regain consciousness . . ."

And then it was quiet.

 _He can't die, Bette!_

 _Yes, he can, Dot. But he won't._

And they stood, unable to move, unable to breathe.

Or speak aloud.

Kathy had rushed over to sit with the still sleeping Annabel.

Lucy was on her way.

And none of that mattered because Jimmy their darling lay unresponsive and still in the hospital bed.

Hooked up to wires and tubes and beeping machines.

All because some bastard had entered the store only hours before.

And shot him in the chest.

"Shoulder, technically. But he suffered a great deal of blood loss before he was found."

 _Oh sister._

 _I know._

So many worries. So many fears.

Odd that one thought would stray into their minds at the same time.

"Where are his hands?"

A startled response from someone faced with a two-headed, crying woman.

"What?"

"Hooks, where are his _hooks_?"

The pale, smooth, scarred stumps lay bare on the white sheets. It seemed indecent.

"Oh, uh, I don't know. I'll check."

The sisters reached down and covered his arms up to his elbows.

The nurse finally returned.

"I'm sorry. They were removed to treat him. They're with his clothes. Should we bring them?"

Their gaze remained fixated on the man in the bed.

"Yes, please."

So she brought them.

In a bag.

Along with his blood-stained clothes.

"May I . . . may I ask . . . it's very unusual to see a double amputee. How . . ."

"Logging accident."

"Yes. Logging. Up north."

"Ah. I see."

And then she, still slightly mystified with the entire situation, went away.

And the wives stayed.

They sat.

They watched.

They listened.

And waited for their husband to wake up.

* * *

"Bette! Dot!"

Their conjoined, numb body was crushingly embraced by their weeping friend.

And they let Lucy do the crying for them, stubbornly keeping their own tears trapped in their eyes.

"What can I do?"

The sisters shook their identical heads.

"Nothing. Except . . . we can't leave him alone. Will you stay with Annabel?"

The weeping woman kissed both their cheeks.

"Of course, oh of course!"

And so, after keeping watch over him for so time, Lucy left.

Dan Clark came and went, promising to have the shop cleaned up and reopened for business within the week.

And requesting to pray with them for Jimmy to be brought safely out of the Valley of the Shadow of Death.

Thomas and Kathy Clark.

Proffering hugs and prayers and reassurances of support _when_ the time came for Jimmy to heal at home.

Neighbors here and there, offering their services and prayers during their time of need.

The few store employees all of whom touted the exceptionalness of Jimmy as their boss, mentor, and friend.

All at the behest of the watchful medical staff, came and went in due time.

Until only Bette and Dot remained.

Bette and Dot.

And the still man in the bed.

* * *

They were jolted out of a slumbering stupor by insistent, rapid beeping.

And movement.

Alot of movement.

"Mrs. . . . Walkers? Mrs Walkers, if you would please . . ."

The voice was restrained, carrying a concealed tone of dread.

Alarmed, they drunkenly staggered to their feet.

To see their Jimmy convulsing and flailing in the narrow bed.

Surrounded by white doctor coats and starched nurse hats.

 _Oh god, sister . . ._

 _I know._

 _Ohgodohgodohgod. . ._

"What's going on?!" Dot cried out.

The nurse attending the wives, tried to calm them.

"Please, ladies. If you'll come with me."

Dot craned her neck to see as Bette responded.

"Please, tell us what's happening!"

With ripening fear, they allowed the matronly nurse to led them into the waiting area.

Then she turned to them.

Compassionately placing a hand on each of their arms, she looked them in their eyes in turn.

"Your husband has experienced a severe reaction to the blood transfusion he recieved. He's suffering dangerously high fevers and seizures. We're doing all we can to save him."

* * *

 **Here's my nightmare. 'Cause hubby o' mine is an assets protection guy with Target. And he's got no team behind him. Scary.**

 **And he's allergic to _both_ penicillin and erythromycin. Cause he's him. *facepalm***

 **Anyway, thanks to DinahRay, LuciaDiAngelo, midnightrebellion86, brigid1318, haily94, and autumnrose2010 for showing back up after my hiatus.**

 **It will probably be a few days until my next update. But as this is a cliffhanger and I already know where it is going, trust I will update by the weekend if not before.**


	11. Fancy Seeing You Here

I do not own American Horror Story: Freak Show.

Still not exactly sunshine and lollipops, no. But just give it a read.

And Baby Makes Four

Fancy Seeing You Here

* * *

Hot, it was so hot.

It was _always_ hot in Jupiter, Florida.

But this was soupy, miserable, _cesspool_ hot.

Here at the carnival.

At Miss Elsa's Cabinet of Curiosities.

He glided along, his bare feet seeming to not even touch the dry, dusty ground.

Passed under strings and strings of little white lights guiding him along the path to the big top.

Large canvas posters of his fellow freaks warmly surrounding him on every side.

His friends, his family.

He hadn't seen them in so long.

He wanted, _needed_ , to see them now.

He just wasn't sure if he was ready.

He was vaguely aware that for the moment he was the only one in the vicinity.

 _Must be late. Elsa'll be pissed._

He tried to go faster.

But only continued to glide along in the same other worldly fashion.

And there it was.

The faded big top.

Its colors brighter now. More festive than he ever remembered them before.

 _Wow, we must be doing well._

But that didn't seem to be right, the 'we'.

He hadn't been part of the freak show in a long time, had he?

He had been, once upon a time.

Maybe not always happily.

But a solid, accepted part.

Then there had been destruction, devastation.

Sorrow, anger, misery.

And then . . . and then . . . something gradually . . . better.

Something happy.

Something bright and full of hope and joy.

His . . . his . . . his . . .

He couldn't remember.

It was so _hot_.

The overwhelming heat was making it difficult to remember.

The heat and the darkness pulling at him.

And the carnival.

Bright, welcoming light spilling out from between the tent flaps.

He could angle his head and just see every seat within filled laughing, cheering, clapping people.

At least he thought they were laughing, cheering, clapping people.

Their features looked a bit fuzzy.

And he couldn't _hear_ them.

Then the curtain twitched aside.

And she appeared.

The great Elsa Mars herself.

Just as he'd always remembered her.

Bizarre eyeshadow and powder blue pantsuit.

"Elsa!"

He didn't know why he felt surprise.

This was where she was. Where she'd _always_ been.

It shouldn't warrant _surprise_.

"Hello, my darling Lobster Boy."

She seemed . . . calmer now. Kinder. More at peace.

"Didn't expect _you_ so soon."

He shrugged, scratching the back of his scruffy neck with one fused-fingered hand.

"Really? Thought I was late."

She huffed.

"Nope, not even on the bill tonight."

She glanced in.

"Hey, come here and see what the cat dragged in."

The flap twitched aside.

And there he stood.

Paul the Illustrated Seal.

In his brown striped vest and bowler hat.

Shortened arms and cocky smile.

Alive and happy and healthy.

"Blimey, mate! Fancy seeing you here! How've you been?"

His broad smile was genuine, blue eyes bright and clear.

Then he frowned.

"But . . . what're you doing here _now_? It's not time yet. Is it, Elsa?"

The aged strawberry blond shook her head, studying Jimmy mildly.

Jimmy frowned, looked down at his shirt, now suddenly torn and covered in blood.

Then it came to him.

Or at least he thought it did.

"I think I got shot."

Paul scoffed good-naturedly.

"Oh what, _that_? Oh bollocks, mate, it's just a flesh wound!"

And cast a sarcastic eye at the wooden legged German beside him.

"Not like he got a throwing knife to the stomach, eh, Elsa?"

To which she replied with a flutter of the hand and a nonsensical ' _phffft_ '.

"First time tonight he's brought _that_ up. Must be a personal record."

But amazingly there was no evident anamosity between them.

Though Jimmy couldn't quite grasp exactly why there should be.

So many things hovered on the edge of his mind.

Like a caught fish slipping from your hands.

Or things previously of such importance fading to grey in the cosmic scheme of things.

Or something.

Then Paul winked at him.

And ducked back inside.

Replaced by a tall, robust woman and a little bald man.

"Elsa, you gotta get back in there, they're calling for another encore and it's your t- Oh Jimmy!"

He'd never seen her smile so big.

It would have warmed him up even farther if not for the already flaming heat that seemed intent on baking him from the inside out.

Then she puzzled. Looked around.

"Walking lonely tonight?"

He stared at her, wriggling fish slipping once again from his grasp.

"I . . . guess. Why?"

He _knew_ the answer to this. He _must_ know the answer to this.

He knew he did.

He searched and searched for the fish in the dark, murky waters but only saw its tail as it dove away yet again.

"Oh dear. Not too bright though."

And Amazon Eve shook her head in fond befuddlement.

As she guided Elsa back into the tent.

Which left Jimmy with one remaining person between him and the entrance to the big top.

"Meep!"

Thankfully, the feather topped weirdo clutched no chicken, headless or otherwise, in his wiry hands.

Only held two closed fists.

And a giant grin.

"Hey, Meep!"

Jimmy felt a surge of relief and a lightening from deep within that he couldn't quite explain.

"You look great!"

The egg aficionado nodded his head enthusiastically.

"Meep!"

He turned his head and gazed for a long moment inside the tent.

Issued a quiet, almost yearning, meep.

Then back, seeming to search the darkness around Jimmy.

"Meep?"

Jimmy looked around, wishing he could catch that slippery, evasive fish.

It seemed so _important_. He _knew_ it was important.

"I don't, I don't remember. I know I'm supposed to. I know it's really important. But I just _can't_."

Then Meep pointed.

Not into the tent.

But behind Jimmy.

And when the lobster handed man looked, he saw a short, silvery, child-shaped outline faintly glowing in the darkness.

Holding the hand of a taller, slightly strangely shaped, silvery outline.

He knew them. He _knew_ them.

They were the missing link.

The last piece of the puzzle.

The slippery, hiding, mystery fish.

He _knew_ them.

And he wanted to be _with_ them.

But he wanted to go inside the tent too.

See the others.

Be a part of them again.

Jimmy the Lobster Boy had a decision to make.

"Meep?"

The little man blocking the entranceway into the tent gazed up at him, dark eyes full of knowledge and wisdom.

"If I come in . . . I can't come out, can I?"

Sage little beady eyes.

"And then I won't see," he gestured a lobster hand toward the figures, ". . . them for a long time again. Will I?"

Silence full of words.

"And they're . . . they're really important, aren't they?"

A whispering smile from the little man.

"And I'll remember them. And everything else if I go back. Won't I?"

Meep never made a sound.

Only held up his tiny hands and opened them.

Two small eggs.

One pale blue. One speckled brown and white.

Jimmy gazed at them.

Looked from one pull to the other.

Once more at his small friend.

Closed his eyes.

Took a deep breath.

Thought.

Opened them.

And took his first step.

* * *

 **Lots of implied things going here, I know. We can discuss it if you like.**

 **Why wasn't Ma there? I think because he didn't need her to be. She has only ever appeared when he needed her. And this time, it would have only served to muddle his decision.**

 **Or maybe I'm just a nut.**

 **You decide, yeah?**

 **And yes. Totally pulled a Monty Python back there. Cause _they_ got it from _Paul_** **. ;)**

 **Anyway, thanks to DinahRay, brigid1318, LuciaDiAngelo, autumnrose2010, Bumblebee93, and midnightrebellion86 for the great reviews on the last chapter.**

 **See you again soon. Snow days are grand. Especially ones attached to the weekend.**


	12. In Mourning

I do not own American Horror Story: Freak Show.

Or firearms. Now.

And Baby Makes Four

In Mourning

* * *

". . . would have done without you these last few weeks, Lucy."

Bette felt their conjoined chest tighten with emotion at Dot's words.

The thought of facing the unknown alone seemed impossibly frightening and daunting.

Lucy's misty-eyed expression matched their own as she gazed at her friends.

"It's been the least I could do since you saved me from . . ."

She trailed off momentarily before picking back up the thread of her love and gratitude for her friends.

"And I'm just glad I can be here for you both in your time of need now."

All three women fell silent as they tidied up what little kitchen mess there was.

Listening to the radio broadcast turned down low.

". . . quoted as saying, 'Let them see what they've done.' Such brave and noble words . . ."

"Almost time for the service," Bette stated quietly, glancing up at the clock.

"I only wish Jimmy . . ."

But Dot couldn't finish the sentence.

Instead she took a deep breath, steeling herself for the wash of collective sorrow along with the unrelated inevitable sidelooks of pitying compassion she and her fused twin would be inundated with this morning.

 _It's okay, sister. We'll get through this together._

 _I know. I just . . . I can't . . . it's just too much. How could this happen in the world?_

 _I know. But when it's over, we'll come home and rest. Let somebody take Annabel and just sleep a little while._

They hadn't gotten much sleep in the last several weeks.

Especially in the last couple of days since Jimmy . . .

"We need to get dressed before Kathy gets here," Dot said aloud to Bette for the benefit of their non-linked friend.

Lucy nodded and the sisters moved into their bedroom.

The bed was made, easier now that they slept alone.

Jimmy had always hogged the covers.

It had irritated them from time to time, one always waking up chilly.

No problem with that now.

All was still in the nighttime hours.

And they slept worse now that they _didn't_ have to battle the Ruthless Bedsheets Bandit.

 _I miss him there with us._

 _So do I._

They clothed themselves in one of their few more formal black dresses.

Brushed their straight dark hair.

And placed their signature headbands.

 _You know, I was thinking of changing up our look before . . ._

 _Yes. Me too._

 _But now . . ._

 _I know._

 _It just doesn't feel important._

 _Maybe some day . . ._

 _Yes. Maybe._

Suddenly overcome by another bout of emotion, the sisters felt weak and sat shakily in a nearby armchair.

 _Oh, sister, I just can't believe he's gone!_

 _Neither can I. He was such a good man. I loved him._

 _We both did._

 _And now . . ._

They stood once more, gathering strength from each other's presence.

 _I just can't believe . . . how could somebody shoot him?!_

The old anger returned, brighter than ever.

In a way, it was a comfort.

They could burn in their anger easier than drown in their sorrow.

 _What had he ever done to deserve such violence?!_

 _Nothing, sister. Not a damn thing. He only ever tried to make it better._

 _At least they caught the bastard._

 _Yes. There is comfort in that._

 _Not much though._

 _No, not much._

They secured one of their few pairs of dressy heels on their feet.

And stood.

Gazed blankly at their conjoined reflection in the full length mirror hung on the back of the door.

 _Remember his handsome smile?_

 _Oh yes. When he smiled, you just felt there was good in the world._

 _And he knew just what to say to make us feel like we could accomplish anything._

Bette sniffed as Dot wiped away a tear.

 _Remember when he pardoned the Thanksgiving turkey?_

This brought the reprieve of a chuckle to their brooding thoughts.

 _Oh yes, everyone talked about how silly it was. But you could tell it brought joy._

 _I think that's what I'm going to try to remember, sister. That smile. And that turkey._

 _It's a good legacy._

 _Certainly a special one._

Feeling a bit calmer, they left the room and headed back into the living room.

And gazed with renewed love at the sight before them.

Their little daughter sleeping on the couch.

Protectively snuggled up with her daddy.

Who cradled her carefully with one arm.

As the other stayed securely bound in a restrictive sling.

He had been home a week, the life threatening infection in his body successfully beaten by a stout mixture of drugs, treatments, prayers, and vigilance.

 _We almost lost him, Dot._

 _I know, Bette._

 _I'm so grateful he's still with us._

 _Me too._

Dot reached out and brushed a gentle hand upwards along the beloved face of her husband.

He turned into her palm slightly as did he did whenever she touched his face.

Lucy and Kathy, along with a myriad of neighbors, had been providing them casseroles, pies, and well wishes as they turned inward to heal and comfort their little family.

Jimmy had required more help than usual with his day to day activities.

Which were severely limited by every single person he came in contact with.

"Jimmy Walker, set that down!"

"Jimmy, darling, what did we say about overexerting yourself? Let us help you!"

"Dada, no!"

Which he had not had the strength to fight, being so weak and tired from the healing process his body was going through.

He had been sleeping on the couch since his return home because it helped stablize his healing shoulder.

And Dot and Bette had slept fitfully as they had both kept ears open for him in the night should he need anything.

He was too weak to be very social in the house, much less out.

But he was here, he was whole, and he was alive.

She felt her tears, this time happy ones, starting in her eyes again.

But she resolutely pushed them back.

Not quickly enough though.

For her lover, her friend, her support, opened his own dark eyes.

A dopey smile forming on his face as he felt the presence of his darlings near him.

A smile which then abruptly faded as he took in Dot's face.

"Oh hey, what's wrong?"

Dot shook her head, her eyes bright as Bette spoke for them.

"We're just grateful you're still here, darling."

His smile returned, dimpled as ever.

And he glanced at the clock on the wall.

"Almost time to go?"

Bette nodded.

"Yes, Kathy should be here any minute."

His expression grew solemn. He'd been overly anxious about the four of them being seperated at all since his incident.

"I've never known you to be church people. Or really political."

Dot ran her fingers through his hair, mussing it up in that way she adored.

"He was going to make the world a better place, Jimmy. More civil rights for African Americans . . ."

". . . It would have come to people like us eventually too."

"He cared. He believed."

He nodded. He knew. They all did.

"And it's so similar to what happened to you . . ."

Jimmy flashed a sardonic grin.

"Only I'm not as important as him."

Both of his darlings shot disbelieving looks at him.

"Oh, but, Jimmy! You're so much more important . . ."

". . . because you belong to us!"

He felt his heart swell. Just like it did every time they spoke something in the same vein to him.

Bette drew caressing fingers across her daughter's cheek, holding back her renewed tears as she considered what might have happened to Jimmy if the robber had aimed a little higher.

Then she brought herself back again.

"We told Lucy you said she didn't have to stay . . ."

"But of course I ignored it as medication-induced babble," Lucy chimed in softly from her place in the kitchen.

Jimmy and his darlings shared a smile.

"And we want to go to pray for his family, Jimmy. We just can't imagine our little girl not having her daddy anymore. And his children will never see him again."

Jimmy paused, something he couldn't quite hear whispering in his mind that the lost, little children just might and that he, Jimmy, had absolute proof.

But that was a long thought for another time.

Because his little daughter sleepily raised her head from her daddy's chest.

"Too much talk. Too much noise. Dada hurt. Dada resting. Shhh."

And plopped her head back onto his chest again.

"We love you," his wives whispered.

"I love you two," he whispered back.

And Dot and Bette Walker left to attend a prayer vigil mourning the loss of a great man.

Because it was November 23, 1963.

And John Fitzgerald Kennedy had been shot dead only twenty-four hours before.

* * *

 **Of course you all _knew_ Jimmy was going to live.**

 **But I didn't have to just hand it to you, did I?**

 **Anyway, we all now know JFK wasn't exactly the perfection the American people made him out to be. But at this point, they weren't quite there. So, you know. The end of Camelot.**

 **Plus, as they mentioned, Bette and Dot are emotionally connecting it with Jimmy's shooting so they're not crazy, just dealing with extra feels. Like going through battle or something.**

 **Thanks to DinahRay, LuciaDiAngelo, autumnrose2010, midnightrebellion86, Bumblebee93, brigid1318, and The Cry-Wank Kid for hanging in there with me.**

 **Thanks as well to all the silent readers of this story.**

 **And be safe.**

 **And next time, we'll amp back up on the fun happy, okay?**


	13. Author's Note

**Hello wonderful ones,**

 **Due to some sudden unforseen big dramas in my life, I've decided I must take a February sabbatical from my beloved fanfiction.**

 **I promise I'll return in March and we'll continue to enjoy the heck out of these wandering tales.**

 **You are under no loyalty to post a review response to this announcement of mine. I just didn't want to abandon these special characters and you my loyal readers without some explanation as to why.**

 **Some if not all of you would either have been offended (understandable) or concerned (so many of you have shown me kindness over the years) and I appreciate and respect you too much to be so rude and uncaring to youin return.**

 **So take care of yourselves and I'll see you again (relatively) soon.**

 **Happy fanfic-ing!**

 **Your joyful ('cause i choose to be) storyteller,**

 **Not Marge**


	14. Stay at Home Dada

**Hello, everybody! Gosh, have I missed you guys and this story! But I had to stop and reprioritize and get my *bleep* together 'cause dang, you guys, talk about the Adventure of Life! *facepalm* No, _seriously_. **

**Well, anyway, now that I'm back, I've got several new chaps lined up for you to enjoy.**

 **At least I hope you do ;)**

 **Thanks for your kindness and patience with my absence. You're very gracious, all of you.**

 **And now, as Casey Kaseem would say, "On with the countdown!"**

* * *

I do not own American Horror Story: Freak Show

But boy, it feels good to be back! :D

And Baby Makes Four

Stay at Home Dada

* * *

Jimmy Darling Walker felt like a stag film star in his own home.

He didn't _mean_ to.

He just didn't know where to put his _eyes_.

Because his daughter, being a girl, owned dolls. Barbies, to be exact.

And for some reason unbeknownst to him, they were all naked.

Very naked.

And they kept looking at him.

Judging him for seeing them naked.

Not that he was turned on or anything sick like that.

Just . . . very creepily aware of all the undressed, bare, plastic spreadeagle about the house.

 _That's so weird. They don't even have . . . or . . ._

But they did have accessories.

Lots of little accessories.

Little shoes, little combs, little handbags.

Very little.

And very pointy.

And very step-on-able by Jimmy, the Jolly Green Dada. And his bare feet.

 _Ouch . . . ooh . . . ouch . . . ooh . . . damnit! Why did I_ buy _all these?!_

But he knew why.

Her. Sweet little heterchromiated her.

Her who didn't pick up her toys until told to do so.

Her who was just as messy a child as they come.

He'd never had very much in the way of toys growing up, being a carnie and poor and all.

And he'd never really cared.

But now he had a stable job. Stable income.

Relatively.

And sometimes, birthdays and Christmas for instance, he went a little overboard.

Hence, the minefield of little girl toys.

But he couldn't bear to yell at his precious Annabel.

Especially not when she was in her room, playing.

Afternoon sunlight casting its warm rays upon the room.

And the little girl within.

Listening to the radio.

And singing along to her new favorite song.

"Puff, the Magic Dragon, lived by the sea. And frolicked in the autumn mist in a land called . . ."

" . . . la-la-lee . . ."

No, nobody could bear to express anger toward such a sweet little girl like that.

But . . .

"Hey, little girl."

His whisper was soft, warm. Barely more than a breath.

And she heard him anyway and looked up. And grinned his own dimples at him.

Which he grinned right back to her.

"Dada!"

He gestured a hook around at the shamble of messy playtime.

"Let's clean some of this up, okay?"

She glanced around at her kingdom of toys, currently spilling out into the hallway.

And then back at her beloved dada.

"No, thank you. Pay now (no, no consonant 'l' for her, no), no cean."

And went happily back to her play.

Jimmy stood, slightly nonplussed.

 _How do Bette and Dot do this again?_

So he cleared his throat and tried again.

"Annabel, you need to pick up your toys."

She didn't even look up this time.

"No, don't want to."

Her little tone was just so amicable, so _reasonable_ , that his initial forthcoming response was 'okay'.

Then he remembered Ma.

Ma would have been just as charmed and adoring of the lovely little girl, with her dangling red bow as anyone.

But the lovely little girl with her dangling red bow would also have picked up her toys as instructed.

"Annabel Margaret, look at me."

His voice was mild but firm.

And she looked.

"Pick up your toys."

She didn't move for a second.

Then she set down her toy and got up.

"Okay."

 _Whew._

And they cleaned up the room together.

* * *

 _Well, that was a pleasant afternoon, sister._

 _Yes. There is something to be said for having Jimmy at home all the time while he recovers._

 _If only we can keep him off the daytime soaps. He went a little crazy on them for a while._

 _Well, 'General Hospital' is very exciting._

 _Yes, but it was_ insufferable _. Him following us around the house while we were cleaning. Asking us why Nurse Jessie and Dr. Brewer just couldn't make things work between them._

 _And why Dr. Steve just couldn't find love in the OR._

 _Yes. I didn't know whether to hug him or shake him._

 _Glad he got off the pain medication._

 _Absolutely._

They opened the front door, home from their child-free afternoon with Kathy.

And saw, much to their surprise, a floor free of toys.

 _Oh dear, sister. Are we in the wrong house?_

 _I think so._

But then they heard the high pitched voice of their clearly elated little daughter.

"Tea, Miss Maddy?"

And another oddly high voice.

Like a man failing terribly at imitating a Southern belle's drawling accent.

"Why, that'd be delightful, Miss Annabel."

Followed by little girl giggles and laughter.

Bette and Dot in their light, Florida winter dress, followed the curious sounds.

And found their little girl seated at a small table in her room.

Her little girl makeup blotched pink circles on her plump little cheeks.

Big, floppy pink hat askew on her head, ropes of plastic pearls cascading down her front.

Plastic tea set all laid out, cups filled with imaginary rose tea.

Entertaining Miss Maddy Cartel, highborn southern lady of East Florida.

Most regal in her lacy purple sunhat, big gold earrings clipped to her ears.

Purple eyeliner, bright pink blushed cheeks.

And lacy-gloved hooks.

"Cookie?"

The lacy purple sunhat, too small for the grown Miss Maddy Cartel's head, tilted as she nodded, in immediate danger of falling off the blond tousled head.

"Don't mind if I do, Miss Annabel."

Both participants of the Most Sophisticated Tea Party Ever looked up in surprise at the gales of laughter erupting from the conjoined mothers.

Jimmy's face colored instantly but to his credit, he did not remove any of his tea party accoutrements.

He even stayed in character.

"Good afternoon, ladies. Care for a cup of tea?"

 _Oh, sister! We_ have _to get the camera!_

 _Yes!_

But when they aimed the brand new Instamatic at their subjects, Jimmy finally broke.

"Oh, um, no, I . . ."

Annabel however had a different reaction.

"Yay, Dada!"

And fairly leapt into his lap, knocking the hat completely off his head.

And melting his camera-shy heart.

 _Oh . . . well . . . okay._

"Say cheese!"

"Cheese!"

And there never was a little girl and her cross-dressed doubled-hook handed daddy with bigger smiles.

Dimples and all.

* * *

 **Thanks to midnightrebellion86 for the plot bunny. Care for a cup of a tea? ;)**


	15. Shoring Up the Defenses

I do not own American Horror Story: Freak Show

And boy, it feels good to be back! :D

And Baby Makes Four

Shoring Up the Defenses

* * *

The house was quiet.

Baby girl napping, cool breeze wafting through her room from the open window.

Proud Daddy Jimmy watching quietly from the door.

Then carefully with a stealthiness James Bond himself would have appreciated, he pulled the door almost closed with one metal hook, making nearly no noise at all.

And wandered in search of the his darlings.

And found them.

Sitting at the kitchen table.

While some of the more pretentious and disapproving of their neighbors had stubbornly ignored their plight, more others had kindly gifted the family with casseroles, pies, and other sumptuous fare during the hospitalization and recovery of their good and kind man Jimmy.

And his lionhearted wives.

Aside from the outpouring of food and wellwishes, other, more mundane tasks had been looked after by the kindness of others as well.

Lawn mown, hedges trimmed.

Car washed.

And otherwise time and compassion offered to the struggling Walker family.

Kathy and Lucy had traded care of Annabel while Bette and Dot kept vigilant watch over their hospitalized husband.

Thomas had transported Jimmy home from the hospital as carefully as his car and the potholes in the road would let him.

Dan Clark once more came out of retirement to oversee the cleaning of the store and reopened it for business so that the Walkers financial concerns remained as minimal as possible.

Store workers and patrons offered their condolences and care to the reeling family.

And now, as Jimmy grew strong enough for life to resume a more normal path, there was one thing left to do.

As a small show of their deep appreciation, Bette and Dot sat now at the kitchen table, penning heartfelt 'thank you' cards for those kind souls who had so generously cared for them.

Writing on embroidered stationary.

Tucking them into plain white envelopes.

Addressing them, licking stamps on and flaps shut.

Working together and independently.

And their Jimmy watched them with renewed love.

Everything about them was amazing.

Their unity. Their support for each other.

Their patience and encouragement and devotion toward their growing daughter.

And their love for him.

Feeling they were being watched, Dot looked up.

And smiled.

"Hello, darling."

He didn't speak, only returned her smile with his own.

"Everything okay?" Bette asked, pausing also in her work to cast him a curious gaze.

"Yes," he replied, voice thick with emotion. "I just . . . I just love you both so much. Do you know that?"

They smiled together, identical, conjoined twins, yet each her own independent woman.

"We love you too, Jimmy."

He didn't have the words to say more to them just then.

So he didn't.

He just watched.

In wonder.

And awe.

* * *

"Here, Dada! Here!"

 _Splash!_

"Here, Dada! Here!"

 _Splash!_

"Big one, Dada! Big one!"

 _Splash! Splash! Splash!_

The storm had passed.

The skies were clear.

The air was tepid and damp, in true Florida winter fashion.

And the puddles were _huge_.

And Jimmy Walker and his little girl were having a competition.

Who could splash the biggest and wettest through the muddy rain puddles.

It was hard to tell who was winning, so covered in muddy water were both contestants.

It was also hard to discern which was having the most fun.

"Dada, here!"

 _Splash!_

"Dada, Dada!"

 _Splash! Splash!_

Little pink flowered galoshes.

Big black boots

 _Splash! Splash! Splash!_

Little rainbow umbrella.

Shiny, dripping hook hands.

 _Splash!_

And muddy rivelets, droplets, sprayed _everywhere._

 _Splash! Splash! Splash!_

* * *

"Dada go back to work?"

The child was drowsy.

But adamantly fighting sleep.

Snuggling up with her daddy during The Ed Sullivan Show.

"Yes."

She pouted, lower lip stuck out as far as it could go.

"No, Dada. No go. Bad man there. Hurt Dada."

Jimmy looked over at his darlings sitting next to them.

They were smiling bravely.

Everyone was feeling the tension.

Especially Jimmy.

But he wasn't a coward, no.

And he wasn't going to let his family go hungry.

Bette and Dot, seeming to read his thoughts, rose and turned off the TV.

Annabel hadn't wanted to go to bed that night.

The first time they had read to her and put her to bed, she had gotten up for a glass of water.

The second time, she had gotten up because she needed to go potty.

And the third time, she hadn't said anything.

Just climbed into her dada's lap and burrowed herself into his arms.

And now the reason had presented itself.

As the sisters resumed their seat next to their darlings, Jimmy spoke.

Carefully. And with much consideration.

"Yeah, there's a lot of really bad people in the world, baby. Your mommas and I have known some of them."

Dandy.

Dell.

Elsa.

Mr. Spencer.

The clown.

The monsters who had brutalized and killed the innocent Meep.

Lucy's husband.

Others come and gone over the years.

And the man who had shot him.

Up and disappeared like chafe in the wind.

Or a fart in a high breeze, as Ma would've said.

"But there are good people in the world too, Annabel. And we gotta be them, okay?"

Her heterchromiated eyes were big and round as she listened to him.

He was pretty sure she didn't understand everything he had said. But it would have to do until she was older and could understand more.

After all, she was only newly turned four.

And she showed it now, so small and vulnerable and afraid in his arms.

He kissed her forehead, gentle and loving and protective.

"I'll be okay, don't worry. The bad man has gone away. After work, I'll come home and we'll play and go for a walk, okay?"

She nodded though it seemed she was still uncertain.

"Now hug Ma-da and Ma-ba and I'll take you back to bed."

She crawled dutifully over to her mothers and kissed them one at a time, hugged them tight with her plump, little girl arms.

And stood up next to the couch.

Took her father by one wooden hand.

And went into her bedroom.

And stayed there, sound asleep and still for the rest of the night.

* * *

"Will there . . . will there be many other employees there tomorrow?"

Bette tried not to sound hesitant and fearful.

She almost made it.

"The normal amount, I suppose," Jimmy replied shrugging.

He also almost succeeded in sounding casual.

"And you'll be putting in a full day?"

Dot's voice so like her sister's, yet all her own, echoed the anxiety permeating the bedroom that night.

"Don't see any reason why not. I don't have to do any strenuous work so I should be able to manage."

The three of them lay together, safe in their bed.

And grimly contemplating the very real and present dangers of the outside world.

"You'll come home if you start feeling too tired or worn-out?"

An unseen nod in the dark.

"Yes."

He wasn't insulted. They weren't belittling his manhood. Or his ability to care for them, his lovely darlings.

They were fighting fear.

Fear for his safety.

Fear for his slowly recovered health.

Fear of a repeat of the nightmarish events that had transpired only a month ago.

And the only reasonable course of action was to face that fear head on.

And see that the world continued turning.

Or so they hoped.

"Well, then, we'll look forward to seeing you after work, darling. It'll be Carson, you know."

Despite their brave words, they all snuggled together a bit closer for the remainder of the night.

And resolutely held their tears at bay.

As much as they could.

* * *

 **A little anxiety here maybe. Makes sense, I think. We'll see how Jimmy deals with it in the next chapter.**

 **For now, thanks to midnightrebellion86, brigid1318, DinahRay, The Cry-Wank Kid, autumnrose2010, haily94, and former Barbie enthusiast Anonymous136 for your great reviews.**

 **Thanks also to lauralikescatz (meow) for adding for your support to this story.**


	16. An Old Friend Returns

I do not own American Horror Story: Freak Show.

But it will always be near and dear to my heart.

And Baby Makes Four

Then Comes Judgement

* * *

In the small, mahogany-trimmed study of Simon Deen, small town court judge of Brandon, Florida, Jimmy Darling Walker and Bette and Dot Tattler-Darling-Walker awaited their fate.

And the fate of their beautiful, precious, heterchromiated daughter, Annabel.

"You are here due to a compliant lodged with the Florida Children's Bureau. The informant shall remain anonymous but the concerned party stated they were concerned the child was living in "unnatural and unhealthy circumstances" and that she might be suffering from "mental and physical abuse" as well as "moral neglect" and should be removed from the home and placed with a "good Christian family of decent and acceptable moral fiber".

Bette was absolutely crushed by the statement, unable to hardly form a coherent thought or even speak to her sister.

Dot felt complete shock and dismay.

While Jimmy simply went blue with rage.

As he opened his mouth to curse the world and everyone in it to his dying breath, the judge lay the paper facedown and held up a hand.

"You can see why, having no other information readily available to us regarding this situation, these allegations were taken rather seriously and investigated."

Jimmy couldn't see anything other than his pulse dancing red dots before his eyes.

The judge continued, picking up the next paper.

"I have here the painstakingly detailed report from Eugenia Simmons . . ."

 _Bitch._

 _Bitch._

 _Bitch._

". . . regarding her unannounced visit to your home last week."

The judge paused, looking over his glasses at the distraught Walkers.

"You understand, these investigative visits are intentionally unannounced so as to gain an honest understanding of the living circumstances of the child rather than have potentially staged interaction."

Dot and Bette thought they managed curt nods.

As Jimmy sat clenching his jaw so hard his entire skull ached.

The judge nodded and continued.

"The report states in some detail the cleaniness and orderliness of the dwelling."

 _What kind of house are we expected to keep, Dot?_

 _An unhealthy and immoral one, Bette. Didn't you hear?_

"Multiple marriage certificates on the walls which could contribute to a sense of moral confusion and misunderstanding within the family makeup."

 _My_ _ass_.

"As well as the cooperative nature of the those residing within."

 _Yeah, she's still alive._

"With the slight exception of the child herself being cleanily, and cheerful, as well as slightly . . . precocious and questioning of authority."

 _My daughter can tell an idiot when she sees one._

The judge, his face carefully blank, continued.

"There was also a concern regarding possible sexual deviance due to multiple spouses coexisting in the same abode as well as the child herself being concerned with becoming pregnant by "holding hands with a boy"."

 _Shit, are you kidding me?!_

The judge laid that paper facedown and picked up a third page.

"I believe Mr. Arnold Reed is the principal of your daughter's elementary school?"

 _I'm going to be sick, sister._

 _No, Dot._

"He reported that she is excelling academically in third grade, a rather impressive feat, considering she did not complete first grade last year due to the rather unpredictable and volitile nature of the spring semester. And skipping second grade altogether."

The proud parents of Annabel Walker felt pride temporarily swelling their chests, releasing some of the strain constricting them.

"As for her behavior and social interactions in regards to her peers . . "

Which then became hot rocks of tensions as he continued.

". . . Mr. Reed stated that he personally believes that she has a very passionate sense of right and wrong and the "courage to act upon those beliefs"."

 _Oh, that sounds . . ._

 _. . . beautiful, sister._

 _Yes._

"He also stated that her parents, "though of a unique nature in form and familial makeup appear to educate and care for their daughter as well as, or more so, that parents of a more tradional arrangement. "Always willing to meet and discuss what is in her best interests and support the staff as much as possible while also upholding the rigor of what proper education should be"."

 _Well, that might be laying it on a little thick._

 _No, it's not. Jimmy only cussed him out that once._

 _Maybe twice._

 _Well . . ._

"Her teacher, Miss Marie Wall, was interviewed as well and stated, that Annabel is a very focused student in her class and very helpful to her teacher. As far as interactions with her interactions with her peers, she noted Annabel is very quiet and slightly withdrawn . . ."

 _Oh our sweet baby, Dot!_

". . . and only engages in altercations "when she sees no other alternative".

 _Ma'd be proud of that statement._

"The previous teacher, Joan Andrews, did voice concern that Annabel came from a "less than normal home setting" . . .

 _Can't argue with that._

 _Hush._

". . . which made it difficult for her to "understand and interact with her peers".

 _Maybe her peers were children raised by small-minded little shits._

The judge laid the third paper facedown and paused.

"Would you like to take a break? Get some water? Smoke?"

The three of them paused, almost in unison.

 _I just want my daughter!_

The judge cleared his throat and continued.

"The remaining are testimonies from various people of the community. Mrs. Ethel Harding says she prefers the warmth and friendly atmosphere of Clark's grocery and that Mr. Jimmy always takes good care of her."

 _Oh Mrs. Harding and her hard candy fetish. Free groceries for you next trip._

"Thomas Clark a very upstanding member of the community, active member of the Ruritan Club, and son of the store you run, Jimmy, rang me up two days ago and stated, "Jimmy, Dot, and Bette Walker are some of the finest individuals I have ever had pleasure of knowing. I trust them with my father's business, I trust them with my life, and I trust them with the lives of my children. Their daughter could not have more loving, caring parents than they."

Bette's composure broke then and she fumbled a hankerchief out of her dress pocket, raising it to her face as she wept with gratitude.

"Lucy Barrett stated, "I have lived next door to the Walkers for years. They have always treated me with the utmost kindness and respect. Their daughter takes art lessons from me and is always happy and healthy and well-cared for. Bette and Dot did not chose to be born the way they were and Jimmy did not choose to lose his hands. They have done to best they could for themselves and are good people who have helped people, namely me, along the way. They should be allowed to raise their daughter and live their lives as they see fit"."

The judge stopped then and laid down the papers.

"There are more if you wish to hear them. Most are positive and encouraging. Some, mostly of a religious viewpoint, are rather dismal but nothing more than personal dislike and fanatical ranting. But I'd like to stop there."

He eyed them in turn before speaking.

"No one could produce any evidence or even real concerns of misconduct on any of your parts. In appearance to all, the community largely regards you as anomalies perhaps, but nevertheless, upstanding citizens and good parents."

Judge Deen opened his hands, palms up, gesturing vaguely to his audience.

"The only crime you seem to have committed is being born physically the way you are," he directed to Bette and Dot.

"And you," now it was Jimmy's turn to be on parade, "married them."

Their hearts plummeted.

 _Oh sister-_

 _Shhh._

"There is a law against polygamy, which is the act of having multiple wives at the same time."

Simon Deen paused and Dot felt the opportunity to speak aloud for her family had come.

She reached out and laid her hand on Jimmy's arm where he could feel it.

Felt the conjoinedness of Bette next to her.

And spoke.

"Like you said, Judge, we can't help the way my sister and I were born. And as you can see, separation is not possible. But we are human and it is a part of us to feel love. We each feel love for Jimmy. And he feels love for us. And we all feel love for our daughter."

Jimmy felt tears filling up his eyes as Dot spoke truthfully amd eloquently for them all.

"All we want is the best for her. We did not try to have her, she was an unexpected gift to us. But we love her and take care of her and try to raise her the best we can. Maybe being raised as she is will give her more compassion for others. Learn to be more kind and tolerant and caring. The way the world needs to be."

The judge smiled gently.

"I won't profess to understand your life or your decisions. You have a hard road and I suspect it will not get any easier for you."

 _Well, Dandy is out of the picture so that helps._

 _Sister, how many times-_

 _Hush, dear._

"What you have and how you live is alien to me. But I can understand one thing. I can understand when a child is loved and cared for.

 _Sister-_

 _Don't breathe._

And your daughter loved and cared for. I am going to dismiss this case. Be careful and be safe. You may go."

* * *

 **No surprise there, I guess. You knew they weren't losing Annabel. I mean, I'm not as hardcore as Ryan Murphy, you know. ;)**

 **But hopefully you enjoyed this little mini story arc anyway. One more chapter in it and we'll take a short break. I'll be going to work until next weekend. After a ten day snow break so I'm not complaining.**

 **Thanks to King Reeses and brigid1318 for graciously reviewing!**


	17. All Grown Up

I do not own American Horror Story: Freak Show.

I do own a house full of boys, whoo-hoo!

And Baby Makes Four

All Grown Up

* * *

Birthdays, anniversaries, taxes, seasonal sniffles.

Life, as it tends to do, went on for the Walker family.

Annabel learned to read . . .

"Look at Spot. Spot can jump. Jump, Spot, jump."

 _Oh dear Lord, sister, this is excruciating._

 _Yes, we could write something better than that._

 _You think so?_

 _Oh, easily._

 _Lovely little reader though._

 _Yes, so precious._

. . . though not without trips and stumbles along the way.

"Ma-da, Mad-ba, why do they talk like that? We don't talk like that."

"Yes, sweetie, you're right."

"So why do they?"

"To make learning to read easier."

"That's silly."

She learned to ride a bike.

"Faster, Daddy, faster!"

"You're doing it, baby girl! Okay, I'm letting go!"

"Daddy, look! Daddy, look!"

"That's right, baby g- oh, watch out!"

Crash!

" _Whaaaaaa!_ "

"Oh, Annabel! Are you okay?!"

"Did you _see_ that, Daddy?! That damn dog made me fall and skin my knee!"

"Uhhhh. . ."

And in September of 1966, she began to attend school for the very first time.

Her mothers were anxious to say the least.

 _Oh dear, sister, I'm not ready for this._

 _No, Bette, neither am I. She's not even six yet. She's just too young._

Their dear precious little girl had different thoughts on the matter.

"Is it time yet? Is it time?"

"Not quite yet, sweetie. School doesn't start until eight."

"But I want to go NOW!"

"Well, you're the one who got up at five, Annabel Margaret."

"I couldn't sleep, I was too ready!"

She was bouncing on her toes, practically vibrating on the spot.

Their precious little heterchromiated girl.

Blonde hair tied up in curly blue ribboned pigtails.

Big front tooth awaiting it's missing enamel partner.

Blue cotton dress with a few frills, but mostly just comfortable enough for a little girl to _attempt_ to sit still for a school day.

White ankle socks and black Mary Janes with just a little wiggle room to grow.

She was a picture to be sure.

An excited, bouncing baby girl picture by Norman Rockwell, all ready for school.

"Ma-da, Ma-ba, is it time?"

 _How many times has she asked that in the last fifteen minutes, sister?_

 _I don't know, sister. How many times have you asked_ that _question?_

 _No need to be snarky, Bette._

 _I'm sorry, Dot. She's just . . ._

 _I know._

 _Our baby._

 _Yes._

Their baby with a pencil case and lined paper and crayons and lunch box.

And a very enthusiastic daddy.

"Good morning, baby girl! Ready for school?"

"Yes!"

"Good, good! Are you ready make friends?"

"Yes!"

"Ready to learn to read?"

Here her smile flipped into a pout as she rammed her little fists onto her hips.

"Daddy, I _can_ read!"

He furrowed his brow, playing at confusion.

"You _can_?"

She dissolved into giggles.

" _Daddy!_ "

He pretended to regroup.

"Well, what about writing? Can you write?"

She pushed past him to the fridge, yanked her latest writing practice off, scattering magnets everywhere, and thrust it into his hooks.

 _My name is Annabel Margaret Walker._

 _My address is 37 Dexter Way._

 _My phone number is . . ._

Well aware of his little girl's abilities as well as the work and time her mothers had taken to develop them, Daddy Jimmy nevertheless pretended to study it carefully while his darlings fawned from the cooling stove.

 _Oh sister . . ._

 _. . . Isn't he adorable?"_

"Well, what about math?" he questioned his fiercely proud little girl. "Betcha can't do math!"

She folded her arms defiantly.

" 2 + 2 = 4, 3 + 3 = 6, 4 + 4 = 8, 5 + 5 = . . ."

Jimmy Walker dove forward and scooped her up in his forearms, away from the hooks.

"She's a genius! My girl's a genius!"

He spun her as she screeched with delight.

Then he set her down.

"How'd you get to be so smart, huh?"

She grinned.

"Ma-da and Ma-da."

He glanced over, winking.

"Yeah, they are pretty wonderful, aren't they?"

And he moved to exchange kisses with them, his glowing darlings.

"Ewww!" their wide-eyed little girl squeaked out behind them.

Bette broke the kisses of her dimpled husband and glanced at the clock.

"Time for school!"

" _YAY_ . . ."

Trailed out from behind their little scholar as she snatched up her school things and dashed out the door.

The proud parents faced each other, summoning bravery.

It was all there.

The anxiety. The fear. The worry.

She would be mocked and ridiculed by some.

For her unique eyes.

For her small stature.

For her handless father

And her doubled headed mothers.

For other, more commonplace things children teased each other for every day.

But they couldn't hide forever.

They wanted to. Had discussed it.

But Bette and Dot, being raised recluses for so much of their lives, though anxious, were determined to send their little daughter out to face the world.

And conquer it to her liking.

And Jimmy, well, Jimmy thought a normal, commonplace childhood and education just might be the best thing in the whole world.

So they smiled bravely at each other as their little girl yelled from the front yard.

"Daddy, come _on_! It's time to go! _Daddy_!"

And he went, her practically dragging him by a shiny hook.

All the way down the front walk with her mothers watching from the doorway.

Until she stopped suddenly.

Turned.

Launched her school things into her father's fumbling prosthetics.

And ran back to her mamas.

They opened their arms wide, tears welling from four brown eyes.

As she hugged them with all her little might.

"I love you, Ma-da. I love you, Ma-ba."

"We love you too, Annabel."

And then their baby turned, all excited smiles again.

And ran back to start position next to Daddy.

Gathered her things.

And continued her exhuberant, big girl march to the first day of first grade.

* * *

A veritable sea of children of differing ages and sizes flowed around them, heading into the shiny windowed brick building.

American flag proudly waving from the pole out front.

A small, East Florida elementary they had walked past many a time.

That had never looked so big.

Annabel's steps slowed as she approached, her six year old nerves finally starting to rattle.

Jimmy let her slow, matched his pace to hers.

Until she finally stood still altogether. For the first time all morning.

"Daddy . . ." she whispered.

Jimmy bent down.

"Hey, baby girl."

She opened her mouth, then closed it shakily.

"I'll pick you up right here at 3:00, okay?"

She nodded.

"And we'll go home."

Another nod, barely discernable.

Jimmy cleared his throat.

"Now remember, manners matter. 'Yes, ma'am'. 'No ma'am.' 'Please.' 'Thank you.'"

She looked at him, her mismatched eyes big and round.

"Just be nice and show them how smart you are." He paused. "But don't show _off_."

She seemed to absorb all these well taught, well rehearsed manners all over again.

Then she threw her arms around his neck, squeezing tightly.

"I love you, Daddy."

Jimmy, having never imagined he would be a father, felt tears well up in his eyes.

"I love you too, baby girl."

Then she detached and looked toward the building again.

More children were in than out and a woman with a bright smile stood motioning to them.

Annabel took her father's hook. And walked up to the lady.

She had carefully styled blond hair and kind blue eyes.

"Good morning."

Annabel forgot her words again and just stared.

Jimmy smiled winningly.

"Annabel Margaret Walker, ma'am! Ready for first grade!"

The woman returned the smile.

"Wonderful! My name is Miss Dean. I'll take her . . ."

Glanced at his double hooks, then away to Annabel without skipping a beat.

". . . to her class."

Then she extended a hand to the child herself.

"Would you like to see a hamster?"

Annabel blinked.

"What's a hamster?"

Releasing her father's shiny metal appendage, she took the woman's soft, waiting one.

And Jimmy watched them go.

Proud and sad at the same time.

And positive this was the most important moment of his entire life.

* * *

 **Hello! Anybody still out there? I know I've been AOL for a while. But a talkative 11 year old, a supportive husband, along with a precious infant** **(and pregnant again, don't trust tubal ligations, ya'll, ha) consuming nearly every waking minute kinda stole the desire to write family-oriented stuff.**

 **Well, that and sleep deprivation.**

 **But I think I'm over it (for another 3 months anyway *facepalm*) so I'd like to continue the story now, I think.**

 **Anyway, thanks to haily94, DinahRay, brigid1318, and midnightrebellion86 for those encouraging reviews so long ago.**

 **Thanks also to EmmaWatson98 for adding your support to this tale.**

 **See you guys again soon! :)**


	18. A Whole New Set of Days

I do not own American Horror Story: Freak Show.

And I told you I'd be back sooner rather than later ;)

And Baby Makes Four

A Whole New Set of Days

* * *

Six years it had been.

Six, long, glorious years.

Day in and day out. A few exceptions when she went with others on daytime play excursions.

But mostly, day in and day out with her beloved Ma-da and Ma-ba.

And them with their sweet little girl. Fussy little girl.

Precious little girl.

From cooing infant to rambunctious toddler to inquisitive child.

Mornings at home doing chores . . .

"Why do I have to make my bed? I'm just going to go sleep in it again tonight!"

"Annabel . . ."

Reading books.

" 'It is no bad thing to . . . cel-e-br-ate . . . a s-imp-le life.' . . . Ma-ba, what does that mean?"

"Well, Annabel . . ."

Afternoons at the park.

"Look how high I can go!"

"Annabel!"

Or at home on rainy days.

"You'll never find me now!"

"Annabel, oh where's Annabel?"

Now those times were no more.

The first day, Bette and Dot did not miss it.

Not exactly. Not at first.

Not much.

After wiping away their tears of pride and mother worry, they held each other tightly, standing in the kitchen.

 _Oh Bette, did you see?_

 _Yes, Dot._

 _She was so . . . she was so . . . big and grownup!_

 _I know, sister. We did well._

And then they resolutely decided to begin the day.

 _Well, sister . . . let's clean up this kitchen._

 _That_ took about ten minutes.

Then they moved on to the rest of the morning cleanup routine.

Bathroom, bedrooms, living room.

It actually took less time than with precious Annabel 'helping'.

Another ten minutes.

They planned the evening meal.

 _How about something special to celebrate her first day of school?_

 _Good idea. Hmmmm, how about . . ._

Spaghetti and meatballs for their pasta-loving little scholar. Side salad and French rolls.

And for dessert . . .

 _Chocolate cake, Bette?_

 _Oh wonderful idea, Dot! But let's wait for that until she gets home so she can 'help'._

 _Oh, sister . . ._

Leading into another few moments of dewy-eyed sniffling.

Before they regrouped again.

Standing in the middle of their small, clean, quiet house.

And realized . . .

 _Dot?_

 _Yes, sister?_

 _What do we do now?_

That life was definitely changing for them.

 _I . . . I don't know._

* * *

They read.

'How can you wish on a turkey wishbone with a man who is capable of correcting a love letter?'

They watched T.V.

'How can we believe a man who would sell out his friends?'

'Dumkophf! Who else are you supposed to sell out? You can't betray enemies!'

They sewed.

 _Bette! Would you mind_ not _sewing us to the machine?_

 _Oh . . . I'm sorry, Dot. I'm . . . distracted._

They considered sunbathing.

 _Sister, did the fabric . . . shrink . . . laying in the drawer all this time?_

 _That's what we're going to tell people, Bette._

 _Oh well._

They napped. Sort of.

 _Dot . . .Dot . . . Stop snoring!_

Sleepy snort.

 _What . . . oh . . . well, go to sleep and stop_ listening _, Bette._

Irritated sigh.

 _Well, I suppose there's always more of 'Up the Down Staircase'._

 _That's nice. Just be quiet so I can sleep._

And generally enjoyed the newfound time to themselves.

Apart from being slightly lost in their own home, that was.

* * *

"Ma-da! Ma-ba!"

They barely had time to open their arms before the small child's body slammed into their own.

"Well, hello, Annabel Margaret! And how was your first day of school!"

Big, tooth-gaped grin.

"Our class has a hamster! And a fish! I knew all the number answers and all the words in the storybook! The teacher said my handwriting was the neatest she's ever seen! At recess, I swung so high I almost flipped the swing . . ."

As their excited little girl with the crooked pigtails and dusty Mary Janes continued to ramble at an unbelievable pace, Jimmy quietly moved over to his darlings, pecking them both on their cheeks.

"I need to go back in an hour to finish up the day."

They nodded, gifting him with fond looks before redirecting their attentions to the still rambling child.

". . . Mouse' and I was so quiet and still, I got picked three times!"

She paused, out of breath, then burst forth again.

"Can I change out of my dress now?"

Her mothers nodded.

"And then we'd like you to help make a chocolate cake to go with dinner."

The little girl eyed them carefully.

"Can I lick the spoon?"

Affirmative nods.

"Yay!"

And she was gone.

Dot looked at her grinning husband.

"How was your day so far?"

Jimmy shook his head.

"Oh no, there's no way I'm following _that_."

Bette giggled.

* * *

That week, Jimmy continued to follow a bouncing first grader to school every morning.

No longer was she tentative once she reached the schoolyard.

Instead, she hugged him and ran off to see if she could finagle her way into class early to help feed the fish or change the newspaper in the hamster cage.

Jimmy, proud and a little homesick, would continue on his way to the store where he would talk anybody's ear off about his little girl's complete domination and conquering of the first grade.

And his glow and complete disregard for the more manly, less emotionally contrived aspects of life charmed them so much that his verbal hostage would find themselves listening raptly, wising for a little darling such as that.

And mothers Dot and Bette, well, they cleaned.

Not just cleaned. But _cleaned_.

The house, already cozily spick and span, became in dangerous of being scrubbed to death.

The bathroom gleamed, the tub so throughly scoured that no mold could possibly consider daring an introduction.

The refrigerator emptied, scrubbed, and refilled, as was the minimal freezer.

The stove pulled out and space behind and underneath gleaming with the effort of the Boraxed Brillo pad.

Closet contents thinned and extra items boxed for donation or later reutilization.

Drawers meticulously organized and reorganized.

Dustbunnies captured and mercilessly put to dustbin death.

Rugs dragged outside and beaten within an inch of their lives; couches vacuumed and freshened and relieved of their coin fugitives.

Holiday decorations sorted and straightened and prepped.

They lost three pounds that first week. Until Dot put her foot down.

Literally and metaphorically.

 _Sister . . ._

 _Yes, Dot._

 _Sister . . ._

 _Hmmm . . ._

 _Sister!_

 _What?_

 _I'm tired._

 _Yes, we are getting so much done, aren't we?_

 _Sister, I'm going to sit us down on the couch now._

 _Oh. Okay._

Jimmy on the other hand, blessed with naturally high metabolism, was already starting to feel the effects of addition of daily desserts accompanying their suppers that his wives were creating in an effort to fill the time.

His palate was delighted. His straining stomach was waving a white flag of truce.

And his extra full lunch pails were shared with his employees. If only to not suffer midafternoon cases of unexpected narcolepsy.

And Annabel Margaret, well, she was obvious to all, having being much involved with being the brightest student in her class and a fireball of energy as soon as she burst through their front door, full of knowledge and life experience.

By that first weekend, Bette and Dot were so tired from their ruthless attack of the house and encroaching boredom, everyone ate cereal for breakfast.

Watched 'Captain Kangaroo', 'Porky Pig', and, of course, 'Underdog'.

And generally lazed about for the majority of the morning.

Somewhere in the midst of their complete and utter stillness, Dot, stroking Annabel's hair as the sleeping child drooled on her leg, spoke silently to her sister.

 _We_ cannot _do that again next week, sister._

 _No, Dot, you're right._

And she was.

Because the next week was completely different.

* * *

 **The first book quote is from 'The Hobbit'. The second is 'Up the Down Staircase' and the show is the original 'Dragnet'.**

 **Thanks to DinahRay, brigid1318, autumnrose2010, midnightrebellion86, Bumblebee93, and my university-stressed guest (don't implode, sweetie) for returning with those great reviews!**

 **See you again soon!**


	19. In the Principal's Office

I do not own American Horror Story: Freak Show.

I do own a house full of boys, whoo-hoo!

And Baby Makes Four

In the Principal's Office

* * *

"Mrs. Walker, this is Mr. Reed, the principal of Annabel's school. I would like you to come to our school for a conference, please."

 _Uh oh, sister. This doesn't sound good._

 _Stay calm, Bette._

"Certainly. What is this regarding?"

"I'd rather talk to you in person, ma'am."

 _Oh dear Lord, what?_

 _I don't know._

"Of course. Thank you, Mr. Reed."

And there they were faced with a conundrum.

Public display.

Of a two headed, one bodied woman.

In their daughter's school.

To the head of the school.

As soon as possible.

Their first instinct was to stay.

Send Jimmy.

 _They won't question the hooks. Not near as much as they'd question us._

 _True._

 _And he's just about as close._

 _True._

 _And he's so much more charismatic._

 _Yes._

Silence between them.

 _But what kind of message does that send to our daughter? That she can't depend on us? That she should be ashamed of us?_

More silence.

 _We've got to do this, Bette._

 _I . . . I know, Dot._

 _No matter how scared we are._

 _Yes._

 _She's our daughter._

 _Yes._

 _We knew this was going to happen sooner or later._

 _Yes._

 _We can't be like Mama._

Old, bitter pain rising.

 _No._

 _Annabel needs us to be strong._

 _. . . Yes. Okay, Dot._

They drew combs through their hair.

Straightened their dress. Picked up their handbag.

And walked out the door.

* * *

Relatively well known amongst their neighbors along the path to Jimmy's store and a few blocks beyond, the trek to Annabel's school (in between their house and said store) seemed nevertheless much longer than usual.

And when it came into view, it was Dot then who faltered.

 _Oh, sister._

Adrenaline coursed through their shared body, with surges of fear and anxiety staccato-ing their heartbeats.

 _My leg feels weak._

 _Yes, mine too._

They paused, outwardly calm and enjoying the warm, sunny, Florida day.

Inwardly battling all the learned demons and possible implications of their unique existence.

 _Dot?_

 _Yes, Bette._

 _I love you._

 _I love you too, sister._

 _Let's go._

* * *

The secretary spilled her coffee all over her typewriter.

A little boy sitting in the 'wet seat' started to cry.

And Bette and Dot resolutely held their smile, glued on as it felt.

"Bette and Dot Walker here to see Mr. Reed, please."

The spindly secretary's eyes bulged behind her thick, smudged lenses.

"Ah . . . yes . . . er . . . he . . . um . . . just a moment please."

She disappeared into a side door, returning self-consciously to seat herself before the typewriter and begin mopping at the coffee-ed metal mess with a lacy, pink lady's handkerchief.

She seemed to force herself, on decorum, to look at them as she spoke curtly.

"You may go in."

The principal's office was small and plain yet tidy.

Bookshelf, filing cabinet, desk with necessary office supplies neatly arranged and ready for use.

Large American flag in the background, seeming to dominate the musty space, effectively blocking out part of the windows.

Two metal chairs facing the man himself.

Mr. Reed, thinning gray hair behind small round glasses.

Neat brown suit, stern expression.

Rising from his chair, as was decorum, in the presence of ladies.

Tall. And slender.

It was apparent the rattled secretary had warned him of the physical peculiarity of the Walker wives.

His face, calm and composed, revealed nothing of his thoughts as they presented themselves to him.

"Good morning. Mrs. Walker, I presume?"

He addressed Dot, as people naturally seemed to do upon first meetings with the twins.

Bette kept her calm.

As her sister smiled politely.

"Yes. Good morning."

Then he shifted his gaze to Bette.

"And . . ."

Bette swallowed the sickly feeling in her throat.

"Mrs. Walker, yes."

The man paused for the briefest of seconds.

Then nodded, resuming his seat and gesturing to those in front of him.

Dot and Bette sat in the left one . . .

 _I wish Jimmy were here._

 _Yes, right there next to us. Why didn't we ask him to come?_

 _We didn't want to worry him until we knew something. And we were being brave._

 _Oh, right. That's it._

The middle-aged man cleared his throat, shuffling some papers on his desk momentarily.

"I have called you here because your daughter has been involved in an . . . altercation of sorts during recess today."

The mothers felt their hearts drop into their shared stomach.

Seeming to not want to draw out of the unpleasantness any more than necessary, their doomsday speaker continued.

"Her teacher, Miss Joan Andrews, asked the students to draw pictures of their families . . ."

 _Oh Lord, sister, this is our fault!_

 _Yes, Bette. We asked God to melt us into one body._

". . . and if they wanted, to write sentences describing their pictures."

He paused, hands folded atop the papers on his desk.

"According to Miss Andrews, Annabel seemed very excited at the prospect and spent more time than anyone else in class working on her assignment."

He turned over the top page and offered it to Bette and Dot who took it with shaking hands.

The picture was bright and happy and colorful. Shining yellow sun, bright fluffy blue clouds. Swatches of green grass and a tree inexplicably tilted to the left.

Clearly drawn by a child, the centerpiece of the artwork showed a blond haired, stick figure man with a big smile bearing one large shiny silver hook and one brown lobster claw hand.

Next to him stood stick figure Bette and Dot in a blue dress, each head smiling and happy. She had even included their trademark headbands of distinguishing colors.

Between the clearly proud parents, floated an incredibly cute little girl with one blue eye and one brown eye, grasping a mother hand and a lobster hand. Smiling so big the missing tooth was clearly on display.

Dot's chest swelled and ached painfully with pride. Bette felt tears of joy sting her eyes.

 _Oh, sister!_

 _Yes._

 _Look how beautiful our family is to her!_

They were drawn back to reality as Mr. Reed continued speaking.

"She also wrote several sentences to accompany the portrait."

He cleared his throat, then read smoothly.

" 'This is my family. My daddy is the boss at a store. He got shot but he's better now. Ma-da and Ma-ba stay at home with me until I can to go to school. They help me read and write and do math. Sometimes we make strawberry cake for Aunt Lucy. I love my family.' "

Mr. Reed stopped reading and laid down the paper, refolding his hands once more upon it.

"There are some typos and misspellings of course, but it is very neat and well written. Especially for first grade."

Bette and Dot, having proudly gazed at the drawing while listening to his reading, now looked up.

Their growing happiness for their clearly brilliant young daughter now faded abruptedly as they looked into the principal's somber face.

They felt as if they'd been caught doing something wrong by feeling happiness during this time of seriousness.

And instantly resented him for it.

The man, oblivious to all this, continued talking.

"Miss Andrews asked anyone if they wanted to present their drawings to the class . . ."

 _Oh, I'm going to be sick!_

 _Hush, Bette._

". . . and Annabel was the first to raise her hand."

He pressed his lips together for a moment before continuing.

"I believe the children's reactions were not as . . . refined as one would have preferred. The words 'alien' and 'freak' were used, both inside of class and during recess immediately thereafter."

The twins felt their body clenching up so tight they could barely breathe.

"On the playground, some of the students cornered her, interrogating her about the picture . . ."

Dot couldn't not wait any longer.

"Excuse me, Mr. Reed, but when did the altercation happen?"

Mr. Reed's face revealed nothing.

"Recess. Annabel punched boy in the face. Apparently he was continuing the, uh, slander, of the family picture. She broke his nose. He is at the hospital being examined as we speak."

Bette felt a vicious surge of pride.

 _I hope it hurt like HELL!_

 _It probably did, Bette._

The principal spread his hands.

"I'm sorry for your daughter's unfortunate experience, Mrs. Walkers, but we cannot have her attacking the other students in this school."

Dot set her jaw and evened her tone before speaking.

"It seems to me that she was just defending herself against bullies, Mr. Reed. Where was her teacher during all this?"

Mr. Reed cleared his throat.

"Uh, teachers are not required to supervise the students during recess or lunch."

Dot nodded, her suspicions confirmed.

Bette spoke.

"Mr. Reed, we cannot help the way we are. I understand there are people who think we should be put in an institution and kept away from society for our appearance. They think we are monsters."

She paused, gathering her courage.

"Our husband is a good man. He's has been through quite a bit of turmoil in his life as well, but he has become a better man for it."

"We're just people, Mr. Reed. And we deserve to have and care for a family like everyone else."

She clenched her sister's hand in hers tightly for support.

"And our daughter does not deserve to suffer for our . . . irregularities."

Silence fell then and reigned for three or four of the longest minutes of their lives.

Then Mr. Reed spoke and won them with his words.

"I agree with you both."

 _Oh thank goodness._

 _Don't celebrate, sister. We're not out of the woods yet._

"However, you must understand the ways of the world, Mrs. Walkers. You must have known this day would come when you decided to send your daughter to school instead of teaching her at home."

Dot nodded her affirmation of his words and he continued.

"So why did you send her?"

Dot took a deep breath, willing herself to remain calm.

"We wanted her to have a good education, Mr. Reed. More than what we eventually could offer her. We also wanted her to function in society. Isn't that what you do here? Educate children? Give them room to grow?"

He held up a calming hand and Dot bit down on her rising ire.

"Yes, of course. And that is exactly what we do intend to do here. However, she must be able to control her emotions in the face of the bullies she will be faced with from time to time. I need you to help her with that at home so that she may continue to attend public school."

He paused then smiled kindly.

"As for the present, I am dismissing her for the remainder of the day. To try to recover and gather herself to return tomorrow."

The mothers thought a moment then nodded.

And Bette spoke.

"Where is she now?"

Mr. Reed gestured for them to stand.

"She is in the nurse's office, laying down. I'll take you to her."

They rose, willing their conjoined body not to shake.

Dot looked to the drawings.

"May we take those?"

Mr. Reed reached over and rolled the picture up, paper inside, securing it with a rubber band.

Then he offered it to them.

"You should be proud of it. It's clear she is part of a very loving, caring family. Not all of our students are so lucky."

Dot and Bette forced themselves to smile at the man who was obviously trying.

"Yes. We most definitely are."

* * *

 **Poor kid. Hoped she knocked him out cold, don't you? ;)**

 **Well, what do you think?**

 **In the meantime, thanks to Dinahray, midnightrebellion86, LuciaDiAngelo, haily94, and brigid1318 for your reviews.**

 **See you soon!**


	20. Real Strength

I do not own American Horror Story: Freak Show.

I do own an actual working laptop now. Yay!

And Baby Makes Four

Real Strength

* * *

Annabel Margaret lay on the nurse's cot in her pretty blue dress (she had stated proudly to her mothers she would _always_ wear blue on Mondays), staring at the whitewashed wall.

She was a tough little almost six year old.

She could defend her favorite parents in all the world.

She could punch a big, strong, six and a half year old boy.

She could go to the principal's office and explain herself without relative tears or hysterics.

So when that brave, tough little almost six year old girl shifted her eyes and saw her mothers standing there, she did what any other brave, tough, little almost six year old girl would do.

She burst into tears.

Sliding off the patient cot and blinding reaching for her Ma-da and Ma-ba.

Who, hearts shattering simulateously, scooped her up in their arms.

Surreshing love and reassurance into her, tiny, listening ears.

Through her sobbing, mucus-laced tears, they could barely make out her own words.

". . . me home . . . wan' go home . . ."

Dot and Bette cradled her in their arms, squeezed her tight and kissed her wet little cheeks.

Stroked her disheveled hair.

And bit back their own tears.

 _She's just a little girl, Bette._

 _I know, Dot. So little._

 _This won't be the last time._

 _No._

 _You know what we have to do, Bette._

 _Yes, sister._

And they gently set her down on the floor, thin legs trembling, childish hands grasping.

"Now, sweetie," Dot began gently.

". . . we know you're upset," continued Bette.

". . . but we want you to take a deep breath . . ."

". . . wipe away those tears . . ."

". . . and walk out of here like a big girl."

Those big, round mismatched eyes searched them, wanting to understand.

And not quite doing so.

 _She'll make it._

 _Yes. And we'll explain at home._

 _Yes. And she'll be better for it._

 _Yes._

They nodded encouragingly.

And their strong, precious daughter did as she was told.

She took a deep breath.

Scrubbed at her eyelids with the backs of her dirty little hands.

And walked out, quiet and collected.

Holding onto her Ma-da's hand.

* * *

When they closed the door to their humble abode, Bette softly instructed the child to go to her room.

Immediately, her heterochromiated eyes welled once more with tears.

"Am I gonna get spanked?"

A child as even tempered as Annabel didn't receive many spankings in almost six years of existence.

One for stoning an injured stray dog.

One for throwing a wooden block at Daddy Jimmy's forehead when he wouldn't get up off the couch to play with her.

And one for kicking George's leg black and blue for pulling her hair.

A handful of others here and there, doled out sparingly and with measured intention and control behind each one.

So, not much.

And definitely not when the child did not deserve it.

Such as now.

Dot stroked the girl's cheek.

"No, darling. We just want you to relax in your room so you can feel better."

The child nodded uncertainly and made her unsteady way to her room.

They followed at a distance.

And watched her kick off her shoes, pull off her dress.

Dump those things unceremoniously onto the floor.

Much unlike how her mothers had taught her.

But considering the events of the day, let them lie.

And climb into bed in her socks and underthings.

Wrap her arms around her favorite teddy.

Face the wall and close her eyes.

She fell asleep almost immediately.

And slept solidly for three hours.

* * *

" _What?_!"

Daddy Jimmy was understandably irate.

"Why didn't the teacher _stop_ it?!"

And full of questions.

"Oh, I am going to go up there tomorrow and . . ."

And plans to wallop the six year old boy, the teacher, and most of the class with his tried and true wooden hands.

It took his darlings a while to calm him down enough to talk to his daughter without scaring her with his fatherly love and protective nature.

It might have been endearing to his darlings.

And it mostly was.

Except they remembered the policeman so long ago.

And Dandy.

So they tempered their adoration for their husband.

With considerations for his present disposition.

Replicated genetically in his little girl.

By unfortunate situation. And blood.

* * *

"Daddy, are you mad at me?"

Jimmy tried not to cry at those words, spoken so pitifully and quaverously by his only child.

With her big, watery eyes.

And trembling voice.

"No, baby girl," he admonished tenderly. "You didn't do anything wrong."

She blinked in surprise.

"I didn't?"

He could almost _feel_ Bette and Dot's eyes riveted on the back of his skull.

 _Dangerous ground here,_ he cautioned himself. _Don't want my five year old daughter turning into Cassius Clay._

"No," he continued carefully. "Sometimes you gotta stand up for innocent people . . ."

She studied him with wide eyes, drinking in every syllable, tone.

". . . if they're being hurt."

He looked into them, those eyes, so like Ma, his wives, and herself.

"Now, were Ma-ba and Ma-da or me being hurt?"

Her brow furrowed as she thought.

"No," she admitted finally. "I just didn't like it."

He nodded grimly.

"There will always be people who say things you don't like, Annabel. You have to choose when to fight and when not to."

She seemed to mull this over intently.

He kissed her head.

And let her think.

* * *

 **Tricky, tricky, tricky.**

 **But that's life, right?**

 **Anyway, hope you enjoyed this long awaited update. I keep swearing i'll write more and then life goes 'haha!' and I don't.**

 ***sighs***

 **But I'm giving it the old college try!**

 **Thanks to Dinahray, brigid1318, LuciDiAngelo, haily94, Mimi, Bumblebee93, and King Reeses for those reviews.**

 **Thanks also to MaverickPaxaPunch and koreanmochi for adding your support to this story.**

 **And see you soon! I hope. ;)**


	21. Searching for Levity

I do not own American Horror Story: Freak Show.

And I don't want to talk about Roanoake.

And Baby Makes Four

Searching for Levity

* * *

Regular, normal parents would have simply hung Annabel's picture and paper on the fridge.

A sentimental enough choice.

Admired it for a while.

Then taken it down.

Rolled it up. Folded it perhaps.

And put it away for safekeeping.

A memento. A keepsake.

Jimmy and his darlings were not, however, regular, normal parents.

In any sense of the word.

And the situation into which they had been flung was no normal situation either.

And so they did not simply hang the childish artwork and writing upon the refrigerator, no.

They framed them both.

And hung them.

In a place of honor.

In the living room right next to their marriage certificates.

Because whatever oddities they were, whatever unusual dynamics their little family possessed, they loved and appreciated each other more than they could ever fully express.

And they took that love and appreciation seriously, having known true loneliness and despair so long ago.

Little Annabel Margaret did not, could not possibly understand. Having been loved and cherished and protected and sheltered all her short life.

But she did understand that Daddy, Ma-da, and Ma-ba practically glowed every single time they looked up at the drawing. Moved their mouths when reading the words for the hundredth time.

And consequently swept her up into suffocating hugs and smooches until she squealed to be put down to play.

And so their love and devotion to each other was stronger, tougher, than anything else the world could throw at them.

For the time being anyway.

* * *

Annabel Margaret Walker was pretty self-resilient.

Especially for a child.

Her parents, Jimmy formerly Darling and Dot and Bette formerly Tattler, might just have had something to do with it.

Still, it wasn't easy.

The first day back from her suspension, she came home from school angry.

"They teased me again! On the playground! I tried to get away like you said. But they just followed me."

Bette and Dot put down their mixing bowl of pineapple upside-down cake ingredients and gathered their irate daughter up in their arms.

"Oh, darling, no. What happened next?"

Annabel's brow furrowed.

"Miss Andrews came outside and told them to stop. They had to stay after school and clean the blackboards."

Bette tilted her head.

"Well, um, okay, darling. It sounds like they did get punished."

 _Not near the hell enough, sister!_

 _Well, no, Dot._

And Annabel's eyes welled up with tears.

"But I like cleaning the blackboards!"

 _Well, dammit, sister._

 _Yes._

They let her weep and sob for a moment.

Then . . .

"Would you like to help us make a cake? You can lick the bowl and we'll figure out what to do about school."

The little girl nodded, wiping her eyes with the back of her hand.

"Uh-huh."

. . . they set about finding something to make her happy again.

* * *

The second day she came home hungry.

"They took my lunch money! They said there was a fee for being a freak and having a freak family!"

 _Oh Lord, sister!_

 _This has got to stop!_

And they made her a pre-supper peanut butter and jelly sandwich and sat down to listen to her tale.

Quivering with rage.

 _Jimmy is going to explode, Dot._

 _Yes, Bette. And we might just let him!_

* * *

The third day, the Walker house received another summons from the school principal.

Another fight.

And this time they did call Jimmy.

Met him on the front steps of the establishment.

And once inside and seated, proceeded to bear witness to a father's righteous rage.

" . . . kind of shit school are you runnin' here . . ."

"Well-"

". . . not getting to eat . . ."

"Well-"

". . . done anything wrong . . ."

"Well-"

". . . treated like a criminal . . ."

"Well-"

". . . half a mind to let her beat the shit outta that kid . . ."

"Well, technically she already ha-"

". . . let her do it again!"

"Sir-"

"Don't you 'sir' me . . ."

It did not go well.

Still . . .

 _Sister . . ._

 _Yes, Bette._

 _I hate to admit it . . ._

 _Yes. Bette._

 _But . . ._

 _?_

 _Oh sister, he is so sexy right now!_

 _?_

 _Yes, he is, Bette._

 _When we get home . . ._

 _Yes, Bette._

 _All over the place!_

 _Yes, Bette._

 _But first . . ._

 _Yes._

 _We have to get him out of here before he kills someone._

They did succeed in making it home without Jimmy actually committing murder.

As for the rest, well, they did have a young child to attend to.

So it didn't go quite as they had envisioned in their wildest fantasies.

But they eventually still managed to thank him properly nevertheless.

* * *

Annabel Margret Walker was pretty resilient.

"No!"

But everyone has their breaking point.

"No!"

Even a big, tough, almost six-year-old.

"No!"

And unfortunately for her in her opinion, her father and mothers clung to each other by a hair's breadth.

"No!"

Determined to outlast the situation in the flagging belief that it was for her own educational good.

"No!"

That it would soon ease. Relent.

"No!"

Stop, dammit.

"No!"

However, after two long, excruciating weeks . . .

"No!"

There didn't seem to be any reprieve on the horizon.

"No!"

She still hated school. And fought not to go. Every. Single. Morning.

"No!"

And enough was enough.

"Annabel, you _have_ to go to school."

"No!"

She had cried.

"No!"

Pleaded.

"No!"

Cajoled.

"No!"

Even run away from home. All the way to Aunt Lucy's house.

That traitor Aunt Lucy.

Who had called her parents.

After earning the unsuspecting child's trust with delicious cookies and milk.

And, as a final act of betrayal, _agreed_ with her parents that a good education was important.

"Annabel . . ."

"No!"

* * *

Life wasn't all bad though.

Saturdays helped.

And morning music.

Albeit not in any way they could have anticipated.

But should have.

Because their Annabel had an inquisitive, questioning mind.

And the straightforward logic of a child.

" . . . eight days a week . . . I lovvvve you . . . eight days a week . . ."

"Why do they say that, Ma-da?"

Dot glanced over at her child, sitting at the kitchen table, coloring on a white paper, as Bette remained glued to the cookbook in front of them.

Annabel spoke with a knowledgeable air as she carefully considered what color to paint the dog she had drawn.

"'Eight days a week'. There aren't eight days in a week. There's only seven. Didn't their mothers teach them anything?"

 _Oh, she is precious, Dot._

 _Yes, sister._

"Well, they don't really mean it. They just mean they really love the girl a lot."

Annabel seemed to ruminate on this as she carefully colored the dog purple.

And finally came to her own conclusion.

"Well, that's silly. They should just say that. Otherwise the girl's gonna think they're dumb and not like them back anyway."

 _How old is she again, sister?_

 _At least twenty-six, I think._

 _Well, I guess The Fab Four haven't intrigued her along with everyone else yet._

 _Sister. . ._

 _What? Have you_ seen _Ringo's eyebrows?_

 _Oh good grief, Bette . . ._

 _Don't you dare breathe a word to Jimmy. He'll never let us live it down._

 _Us?_

 _Paul . . ._

 _Oh, well . . ._

 _Besides, Jimmy's got his own for that doe-eyed girl from the Mamas and the Papas._

 _Mama Cass?!_

 _What? No, the other one . . ._

 _Ohhh, okay. Well, everybody gets one, I suppose . . ._

But, whether or not the lyrics were too silly for such a logical young lady as Annabel Margaret . . .

". . . ain't got nothing but love, girl . . ."

"My teacher said 'ain't ain't a word' . . ."

". . . eight . . ."

". . . Seven . . ."

". . . days a week . . ."

. . . she ended up singing along with it anyway.

". . . I lovvvve you . . ."

* * *

 **Ah the joys of childhood, huh? *rolls eyes***

 **Anyway, it's been almost two months of hoopla but here's another chap for anyone still interested!**

 **Thanks to LuciaDiAngelo, brigid1318, DinahRay, and King Reeses for reviewing that last chapter.**

 **Thanks also to FallingStar95 and Imagine831 for adding your support to this story.**


	22. Trick or Trap!

I don't own American Horror Story: Freak Show.

And Baby Makes Four belongs to NotMarge.

Trick or Trap!

* * *

Following the days after Annabel had told them that she was teased at school again, Bette and Dot were racking their brains as they cleaned the kitchen. Jimmy was currently at work for the day.

"Bette, what are we going to do about those kids?" Dot asked.

"I don't know, sister," Bette replied. "If it were up to Jimmy, those kids would be eating out of a straw for the rest of their lives."

Dot looked out of the window and saw that several of the neighbors had decorated their houses for Halloween. A mischievous smile crept onto Dot's face when she saw the pumpkins on the neighbor's porch.

 _Bette, I know exactly what we're going to do,_ Dot relayed to her sister.

 _Oh boy, tell me all about it,_ Bette relayed back.

Dot then explained her master plan to her sister in great detail. Once the plan was explained, the two eagerly made their way over to the telephone to make the phone calls.

Later in the day, Jimmy returned home, gave Bette and Dot a kiss on the lips then went to his daughter, Annabel. The little girl's eyes lit up upon seeing her dad.

"Daddy!" Annabel said with excitement as she ran up to her dad.

"Someone's in a good mood," Jimmy said as he gave Annabel a hug, "What's the occasion?"

"Ma-da and Ma-ba said that I can have a Halloween party!" Annabel cheered.

Jimmy looked over to Bette and Dot, who just smiled. But there was something more hidden behind those two smiles.

"Annabel, go watch T.V.," Jimmy said as he ruffled his daughter's hair, "I need to talk to your Ma-ba and Ma-da."

"Okay," Annabel said before scampering into the other room.

With Annabel now out of earshot, Jimmy turned his attention to Bette and Dot.

"Jimmy, we're inviting those kids that are bullying our daughter," Dot stated.

Jimmy's face turned beet red upon hearing this, but Bette quickly stepped in before Jimmy could explode like a loose cannon.

"But they won't know what hit them once the party starts," Bette added. "We've also added their parents."

Jimmy, being the good man that he is, calmed down a bit. "Does Annabel know about this?" he asked. "Because if they come into this house and tease my daughter, I will persona-"

Jimmy was cut off by Bette and Dot bringing him into a hug when they felt his breathing getting heavy from anger. "Jimmy, we've got it all covered, and no. Annabel doesn't know. Besides, can't we just use the whole shower them with kindness thing?"

"I guess you're right," Jimmy finally said in defeat.

* * *

So, two days went by. The Walker home is now decorated. Cobwebs are now hanging from the windows. Carved out pumpkins are on the porch. Orange and purple light are strung up and spooky music is playing in the background.

Jimmy Walker's costume is that of an evil zombie pirate. He has an eyepatch, a ripped pirate's hat with the skull and cross bones, his face has pale makeup with fake blood trickling from his eyes and mouth area. Jimmy's wearing a tattered dark gray vest over a tattered black shirt, gray tattered pants and old boots. He is using one of his wooden clawed hands and is holding a fake rusty old sword, while his other hand is just his hook.

Bette and Dot are dressed as conjoined good and evil mimes. Bette has white facepaint, while Dot has black facepaint.

Little Annabel is dressed up like a witch and is running around the front yard with a huge smile on her face.

"Daddy, Ma-da, Ma-ba, I'm the evil witch!" Annabel cheered.

Bette, Dot, and Jimmy couldn't help but smile at Annabel.

That's not all that's going on, though. A large table with food for the guests is set up outside. Ghost shaped brownies are on one plate, witch cookies are on another, red punch in a bowl is next to the cookies and brownies and there are pumpkin shaped goodie bags for the guests to take home.

Soon, the 'guests' arrive at the Walker home. The guests are those that have been bullying Annabel, including their parents. The evening starts off nice but soon the bullies start in on Annabel when the three parents are distracted.

"This party is stupid," A six year old boy dressed as a dragon complained. "I thought that there would be games."

"Yeah, your parents try too hard with Halloween," A snobby blonde girl dressed as a princess complained.

The pressure of the bullies is getting to poor Annabel. Tears are coming to her eyes, but her Ma-da and Ma-ba had coached her for the night to be kind to them.

"Okay Sally and Brian," Annabel said. "Would you guys like some sweets? My parents said to wait for them but I'm hungry."

Both Sally and Brian, loving sweets, eagerly agree and run over to the table with the ghost shaped brownies and witch cookies. They begin digging in. Sally takes a bite of the brownie, while Brian takes a bite of the cookie.

"Wow, these desserts are good!" Both kids exclaim in unison.

Meanwhile, Bette, Dot and Jimmy are inside the house with Sally and Brian's parents. They are at the dinner table having chili.

"Bette, Dot, Jimmy, this chili is amazing!" Sally's mother says as she takes a bite.

"Thank you, Mrs. Patterson." Dot replies.

"We should come over more often," Brian's dad says.

"We'll have to see about that, Mr. Duncan." Jimmy replies.

The 'chili' dinner continues on, but suddenly, Mr. and Mrs. Duncan and Mr. and Mrs. Patterson start to feel funny. They are doing the sit down tap dance as their stomach begin to rumble and the need to go number two is approaching.

"Um, we hate to cut this short, but we need to go to the bathroom!" Mr. Duncan says as his face turns beet red from trying to hold it in.

The two sets of visiting parents bolt up from the table and run for the front door.

Outside, both Sally and Brian are going through the same fate as their parents. The two are dancing around and trying to get into the Walker home, but they have been forbidden, due to being told to stay outside. The parents come rushing out of the house.

"Kids, we're going home!" Mrs. Duncan shouts as a brown spot starts to form on the back of her white pants.

"We hate to cut it short!" Mrs. Patterson adds as her pants were also become soiled.

With that, the visitors rush to their respective cars, but not before Bette, Dot and Jimmy rushed outside.

"Happy Halloween, assholes!" Jimmy shouts.

"And if our Annabel comes home from school crying from school again, you're going to have more than shit-stained underwear!" Dot adds.

The bullies and their parents speed away from the Walker home. Once out of sight, the Walkers burst into side splitting laughter. Fortunately for Annabel, her Ma-da and Ma-ba have made her some of her own cookies and brownies, while Bette and Dot and Jimmy have their own separate pot of chili.

 _Now that's what I call showering them with kindness!"_ Dot relays.

 _You said it sister,"_ Bette relays back.

* * *

 **Hello wonderful readers!**

 **This devilish Halloween chapter is a contribution from King Reeses so everybody give him a hand!**

 ***claps guiltily for payback***

 **Maybe those little punks'll leave Annabel alone now, huh?**

 **Thanks to DinahRay, brigid1318, Marla, autumnrose2010, and the aforementioned King Reeses for those reviews last month.**

 **Thanks also to koreanmochi, Innocence is Beautiful, Talamermaid, and terriblecupcakes732 for adding your support to this tale.**

 **You never know what's coming up next! ;)**


	23. Moving Along, With Christmas Cheer

I do not own American Horror Story: Freak Show.

But it's still my favorite season.

And Baby Makes Four

Moving Along, with Christmas Cheer

* * *

After The Great Halloween Prank of 1966, things calmed down for Jimmy and his three darlings.

Annabel Margaret went back to school.

Sat in the front row.

Quiet, reserved.

And left alone.

The kids seemed to accept, if not welcome, her presence and she was no longer bullied on the playground. At lunch. In the bathroom. In the halls. Or the coatroom.

She was also not befriended either.

Which she seemed to take in stride.

"They're stupidheads anyway. I don't wanna be friends with them."

She went to school. She learned. She came home.

Her father worried over her. Her mothers fussed.

And Annabel just seemed to move on with her life.

As much as a six year old could.

The holidays helped.

Amid the launch of the Gemini 12 into space, Robert Smith's horrific fame-seeking killing spree, and the first ever airing of Dr. Seuss' 'How the Grinch Stole Christmas', the Walker family found reassurance in their time together as a family.

And loved each other, day and night.

Dot and Bette made a turkey for Thanksgiving. Stuffing, cranberry sauce, sweet potato casserole. Green bean casserole. Rolls. Pumpkin pie. Pecan pie.

And gathered their small group of friends together for the feast.

Lucy, still quite happily unattached.

Dan, aged a year old but sparkles in his eye when he spoke of his fishing expeditions.

Thomas and Kathy, with their now teenage Patty and George in tow.

And gave thanks for what they had been blessed with.

Christmas brought piles of gifts, both homemade and store bought.

More feasting.

And course the age old question.

"Daddy, is Santa real?"

Jimmy sat at the kitchen table, enjoying watching his darlings at their post supper cleanup.

Dot paused in her work momentarily while Bette's head nearly snapped, whipping around so fast to look at her tiny daughter.

 _Oh sister . . ._

 _Yes, I know._

 _It's too early!_

 _Yes, she's just so young._

 _And it's already been such a rough year for her!_

 _Stay calm. Just wait._

Jimmy blinked at his little girl, clamoring up into his lap, her toys abandoned at his feet.

"Wha- uh, why do you ask that, baby girl?"

She scrunched her face up, as if catching a unpleasant order on a breeze.

"Some of the boys at school have been saying there's no Santa. And I know they're a just a bunch of lying assh-"

"Annabel!"

The heterchromiated girl paused, glancing surreptiously at her mothers.

Then moved on, redirecting her attention back to her daddy Darling.

"So, is there a Santa, Daddy?"

Jimmy carefully glanced at the stonefaced Dot and clearly panicking Bette

 _No, no, let her stay a baby!_

. . . and then back at his little girl.

And decided trust and honesty was more important for their little family than anything else.

And he took a deep breath.

"No, Annabel. Not really."

Her upturned little face faltered, unsure which emotion she was going to feel.

Jimmy continued.

"Santa's made up. But the spirit of giving and happiness and all that is real and a good idea."

The child seemed to chew on this for a while. Mindlessly toying with her father's wooden hands.

Finally she replied as none of them would have anticipated.

"Okay."

And slid off her father's lap.

"Can I watch The Monkees?"

Dot nodded, astonished.

And Annabel scooped up her toys, heading to the living room.

Bette bit her lip but couldn't resist calling out to her blondhaired little girl.

"Annabel? Are you alright, sweetheart?"

The child looked back over her shoulder.

"Yeah. Bye."

 _What in the world?_

 _I just don't know._

And they stared at their Jimmy.

Who was just as dumbstruck as they were.

* * *

The next morning, Bette opened the mailbox to a single letter.

Ma-Da, Ma-Ba, and Dadde

Baffled, she and Dot stood under the warm winter Florida sun.

And opened the licked-to-death envelope.

Dear Santa Ma-Da, Ma-Ba, and Dadde,

How are you? I am ok.

This schoolyeer has been bad but I tried to be good. Pleese send me lots of gifts so I can have fun at hom.

Luv, Annabel

 _Bette . . ._

 _I know, Dot._

 _She's . . . she's . . . she's the best little girl EVER!_

 _Yes, she is!_

And then they went and spent too much money on her Christmas gifts.

And when Daddy Jimmy inquired calmly as to how they could afford all that stuff, they showed him the letter.

And he cried.

And then went out and bought more gifts.

* * *

Jimmy Walker, with his now slightly thinning blond hair, could not wrap Christmas gifts.

Not because of his lack of working appendages . . .

"Uh, Bette? Dot?"

. . . but because . . .

"Jimmy! What in the world?"

. . . there was not enough Scotch tape in the world for him to properly secure the paper and bows.

"I, uh, well . . . help."

They disentangled the tape from around his hooks.

His shirt.

And the table.

"Thanks, girls."

And promptly presented him with something even better.

Gift bags.

"Oh, thanks!"

And brightly colored tissue paper.

"Uh, what the hell am I supposed to do with this?"

Earning a few giggly kisses.

"No, seriously."

Pats.

"Uh, girls?"

And smacks on the bottom.

As well as a tutorial on gift bags and tissue paper.

Which he failed miserably.

"Uh, Merry Christmas?"

* * *

Bette and Dot's mother had not believed in celebrating Christmas.

They were too poor to buy gifts.

And she was too ashamed to celebrate anything joyous or festive.

Especially with two freakish daughters sharing one body, double heads bobbing out the top.

Being so secluded from others, the Tattler Twins never much thought about it.

Until they grew up.

Went out into the world.

And discovered they were just fine, thank you.

Incidentally, Christmas was their favorite holiday.

Baking was their favorite domestic activity that did not involve a naked Jimmy.

And so during the month of December, they baked.

Cookies. Pies. Cakes. Fudge. Cinnamon sugar pretzels and Christmas popcorn.

Peanut brittle and Jello Divinity

Pecan logs and peppermint patties.

Sugar and frosting practically hung over them in a white, powdery cloud wherever they went.

And expanded their waistlines without them even imbibing the decadent treats.

Some treats they kept for themselves and their darlings.

"Ohmygerd, thisissogood, humpfhfaglwy . . ."

"Thank you, Jimmy."

But most they sent to school with Annabel (the brownie frightened bullies waryily eyeing the Christmas tin).

To work with Jimmy. Placed at the counter next to a hand-lettered sign "To Sweeten Your Day".

Home with Kathy and her brood. The quietly appreciative Lucy.

"Oh thank you, sweeties. But you've got to stop! I'm not going to be able to fit through the library door!"

And generally around the neighborhood to their acquintances and neighbors.

"Oh my, Dot! This is heavenly! Bette, how do you two keep so trim?"

"Can I have the recipe? Or is it a family secret?"

"You know, you two should really consider setting up a bakery. You could make a fortune!"

 _Hmmm . . ._

"Well, we'll certainly consider it, thank you."

"No, thank you!"

* * *

Annabel was astounded by the plethora of gifts under the tree.

"Oh wow! This is great! You guys give _way_ more gifts than Santa _ever_ did!

 _Uh no . . ._

 _Yes, this may not have been the best precedent to set._

 _Oh but look at Jimmy's face . . ._

 _What, the powdered sugar on the corner of his mouth?_

 _Oh shut up. We'll lick it off later._

"Bedtime, Annabel!"

"Huh?"

 _Sister, it's seven-thirty in the morning . . ._

 _Well, you started it. Grinch._

At New Year's midnight, they toasted with hopefulness,the advent of 1967 with a final batch of holiday cookies . .

"We gotta stop, girls. I'm gonna need new pants."

. . . with eggnog for them and milk for Annabel . . .

"No pants!"

"Bette! Annabel's right here!"

. . . in fancy champagne glasses . . .

"So?"

. . . while wearing festive party hats.

"It's okay, Ma-da. I know all about sex."

 _?!_

* * *

 **Hey, hey, gentle readers! Just popping in a little chapter here for the holidays.**

 **I know I've run off for too long but life and other story inspiration, what can I say?**

 ***Proffers homemade fudge***

 **Peace?**

 **Anyway, I do plan on focusing on this story again in February or March. I got a couple of other stories to finish first because they're shorter and almost to the end.**

 **Thanks to DinahRay and brigid1318 for your reviews so long ago.**

 **Happy Holidays to everybody! 2017's gonna be even better! 'Cause I said! ;D**


	24. A Dress and Bold Questions

I do not own American Horror Story: Freak Show

A Dress and Bold Questions

* * *

With the 1966 holiday season now in the past, things are back to normal for Bette, Dot, Jimmy and Annabel Walker.

Bette and Dot are currently in kitchen and they both have huge smiles on their faces as they look out the window awaiting little Annabel's arrival home. Soon after, the little girl comes into view and runs to the front door with a huge smile on her face.

'She must've had a good day at school, sister,' Dot relays.

'Sister dear, I wonder what kind of stories she'll tell us,' Bette relays with enthusiasm.

The front door opens and Annabel runs into the house before placing her school bag on one of the chairs. She then runs over to her Ma-Da and Ma-Ba and gives them a hug.

"Annabel, how was school?" Bette asks as she smiles at her daughter.

"It was good, Ma-Ba!" Annabel replies as she grabs a hold of one of the chairs. "Can I get an ice cream and watch Secret Squirrel?"

Dot gives Annabel a stern, but loving look before responding. "Do you have any homework?" she asks in a calm tone.

Annabel's facial expression quickly changes when her Ma-Da asks her this. The room is silent for what seems like hours as Dot looks at Annabel waiting for an answer.

"Can I do it later?" Annabel asks in a pleading tone as she gives her Ma-Da a puppy dog look.

Dot caves and lets out a long sigh before finally responding. "Annabel, I'll let you off this once," she says in a stern tone. "But in the future, you're going to have to do your homework first and then watch your show."

Annabel's face lights up with excitement when she hears this. "Thanks Ma-Da!" she replies with excitement before giving her Ma-Da and Ma-Ba a big hug.

Annabel takes the chair and drags it over to the fridge before climbing onto it. She opens the fridge and grabs her desired frozen treat before shutting the ice box and containing the cold air. She then puts the chair back where it belongs before scampering off into the living room.

Bette and Dot could only smile at their daughter as she runs along.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

With the program now over, an excited Annabel runs into the kitchen and throws away her empty ice cream wrapper before washing her hands. The little girl then makes her way to her Ma-Da and Ma-Ba, who just got off the phone with a neighbor. The two headed woman smiled at their daughter.

"What is it, dear?" Bette asks.

"Ma-Ba, Ma-Da, can I write a letter to the Secret Squirrel?" Annabel asks with excitement in her voice.

"Why, yes!" Dot replies.

"Yay!" Annabel cheers. "They said that I need to send my name, a brief message and a dress! I want to send the Secret Squirrel a brown and dark blue dress!"

"Annabel, dear, I'm going to have to talk to your Da-Da about this," Bette says. "We say yes, but we'll have to see what he says, okay?"

"Okay," Annabel replies flatly.

"Now go do your homework then get cleaned up for dinner," Dot says.

Annabel just does what she's told.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

The rest of the day went by well and Jimmy arrived home, gave his darlings each a kiss before giving his daughter a loving hug.

Jimmy learned about his daughter wanting to send a letter to the Secret Squirrel. He, Bette and Dot decorated an old dress that Bette and Dot no longer wore to give it the desired colors that Annabel wanted.

Annabel wrote her brief letter to the Secret Squirrel show, but the letter was placed into a small box on top of the dress. The box was packaged neatly then taped shut before it was filled out and placed by the front door to be sent out the following morning.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

It's the next day of school and the classroom is decorated with red, purple and pink hearts. The bulletin board has every student's name in glittery letters on a white rectangular pink card. The students are chattering amongst themselves as the bell for the next class is about to ring. The childish chatter is put to a stop with a clearing of the throat.

The teacher, Ms. Andrews, folds her arms before speaking. "Thank you," she says. "Now, as you see, Valentine's Day is coming up. Valentine's Day is all about love."

"EEEEWWWWWW!" Several of the little boys shouts in unison.

The teacher ignores the outburst. "What I'm getting at is we're having a Valentine's Day party in a few days," she says. "Everyone needs to bring cards and treats to pass around to the whole class."

After Ms. Andrews says this, a very curious Annabel raises her hand because she has a question.

Ms. Andrews points in Annabel's direction before addressing her. "Yes, Annabel," she says.

"Ms. Andrews, are any of the other classes doing this?" Annabel asks.

"Yes, Annabel," Ms. Andrews replies.

"Don't we need permission slips?" Annabel asks.

This question caught the attention of the teacher along with a few muffled giggles from some of the other students.

"Why would you ask something like that?" Ms. Andrews asks after regaining her composure.

"You said that Valentine's Day is about love, so that means that we're all going to have sex with each other," Annabel responds.

The entire classroom erupts into a chorus of laughter and Ms. Andrews' jaw hits the floor in complete shock at what one of her students just said. The laughter eventually dies down and a now angry Ms. Andrews looks at Annabel with a stern expression.

"Principal's office, now!" Ms. Andrews orders as she points to the door.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Jimmy Darling had been called from work to go to Annabel's school to speak to the principal. Bette and Dot were out running errands, so when the principal called the house, no one answered, which meant that Jimmy had to go to the school.

Jimmy was sitting in the office across from the principal, who had a serious expression.

"Why did you call me here?" Jimmy asked as he started to breathe heavily from anger. "Did they tease my daughter again?"

The principal shook his head no. "Mr. Walker, this is about what your daughter said in class to her teacher," he said.

"What did she say?" The impatient man asked. "I didn't leave work early to beat around the damn bush. What did she say?"

"Annabel asked her teacher if all the classes would be having sex with each other for Valentine's Day," The principal said.

Jimmy's jaw dropped when he heard this. He had no words to say.

"Mr. Walker, I'm afraid I'm going to have send Annabel home for the rest of the day," The principal said. "You can pick up her schoolwork to take home with you before you leave. Before you go, I will call child protective services if this happens again."

Jimmy got up from his chair and thought to himself. 'I better stop showing so much affection in front of her," he thought to himself. 'Annabel, what am I going to do with you?'

* * *

 **Another entertaining chapter from King Reeses!**

 ***round of applause***

 **I thought these ideas were adorable, good job, man!**

 **Thanks to brigid1318, DinahRay, Marla23, and autumnrose2010 for your previous reviews!**


	25. Feast with Friends

I do not own American Horror Story: Freakshow.

I do not own Thanksgiving.

And Baby Makes Four

Feast with Friends

* * *

". . . going to go off on a knit, love, this might not quite be the time!"

Jovial laughter rolled in on the heels of Paul's well delivered close to the story.

Jimmy Darling, big smile painting his entire face, shaking his head in bemusement, reached out and passed the generous bowl of French green beans . . .

". . . with mushrooms sautéed in garlic, topped with shaved parmesan cheese and toasted hazelnuts."

"Oh my dear Toulouse," Elsa gently admonishing. "You never told us you were such a chef!"

And the tiny man himself responding casually. Self-satisfactorially.

Shrugging and twirling his curling mustache with a sly grin.

"Ah, mon amie, but you never ask!"

. . . he had already enjoyed two helpings of.

Passing the food with a healthy, human lobster hand.

From right to left.

From prettily dolled up Evie.

"Jimmy, darling, I'm fit to bust!"

To the happily meeping Meep.

"Meep!"

And eventually on down the line.

The table was full to collapse with all the food his friends had brought to share with each other.

Ethel Darling and her toasted marshmallow-topped sweet potato casserole.

Good-naturedly toting Meep . . .

"He brought you some little cheddar muffins there . . ."

"Meep!"

". . . that I might have 'helped' with a little."

And Salty and Pepper . . .

"Oh, popcorn, how wonderful! That's just what this spread needed, thank you!"

. . . happily bobbing their heads and excitedly gifting hugs all around.

Susie and Ma Petite and Evie all arriving together, girlish laughter trailing along in their wake.

Along with traditional offerings of buttery garlic mashed potatoes and sweet cranberry fluff salad and decadent chocolate pecan pie.

Paul, Toulouse, and the rousties rolling on in a rattly old blue pickup.

"That there, mate, is a kit of corn pudding just like me mum used to make!"

The aforementioned France-ified French green beans.

As well as a cast iron pot of coveted slow-simmered brown sugar and bacon ladened baked beans.

Elsa driving a cherry red Chevrolet Bel Air convertible.

Red hair stylishly curled under her green silk scarf.

Offering up a refreshing cucumber and dill salad.

"Just a touch of a bite to it, my dears. Just enough to cleanse the palate every now and again, eh?"

All of it served to round out the huge glisteningly moist turkey Bette and Dot had basted to absolute perfection.

Their savory cornbread and sausage dressing.

Mounds and mounds of dinner rolls.

And . . .

"Don't forget, Ma-Da! Here, Ma-Ba!"

The delicious apple cranberry sauce little Annabel had proudly helped create . . .

"Well, aren't you the most precious little thing I've ever seen!"

. . . for their happy horde of welcome guests.

Jimmy Darling leaned back in his seat at the head of the table, lobster hands comfortably laced behind his blond head.

The Florida sky was cloudless and blue.

The seventy-five degree temperature and the lightest of breezes served to provide the once-members of the Cabinet of Curiosities with a perfect outdoor setting to their holiday feast.

Which was good.

Because even in this serenely utopic setting, they never would have all fit . . .

"Comfy up there on top of the china cabinet, Meep?"

"Meep!"

"Somebody pass that boy some pumpkin pie!"

. . . inside their two bedroom bungalow without some creative engineering.

Bits and pieces of conversation drifted around him and Jimmy let it, feeling content and happy . . .

"Daddy!"

"Hey! Up here, sugar! Omph, you're getting so big!"

. . . and sublimely grateful for the time he had been given.

His gaze drifted over the gathered merrymakers.

He felt like it had been so long since he had seen them.

"Nice cozy place, you've got here, Jimmy. I'm awful proud of you."

"Thanks, Evie."

And yet it seemed as though no time had hardly passed at all.

His wandering gaze came rest upon them.

Seated at the opposite end of the table.

His darlings.

Bette and Dot.

Identical.

Siamese.

Yet individual to their core.

He loved them.

He loved them both.

For who they were.

And who he could be when he was with them.

Dot paused in her chat with the bearded Ethel.

And glanced up at him.

Smiled a quiet, secret smile.

And resumed her conversation.

As Bette passed a rapidly dwindling basket of rolls to Susie.

Turned her face in his direction.

And winked.

 _I love you._

Which he mouthed back.

 _Love you._

And . . .

"Daddy! More turkey!"

"Sure, baby! But be careful, too much and you'll get a sick tummy."

"Ick, no!"

. . . thought to himself that there was never a luckier man.

* * *

He didn't need to wonder what had awoken him from his Thanksgiving-fueled dream.

It might have dark and he definitely was drowsy.

But the culprit was clear.

"Daddy. Snuggle me."

His darling heterchomiated daughter had crept into their room.

Crawled into their bed.

And stolen all the covers.

Along with Jimmy's heart.

"Sure thing, baby."

He scooted over to make room for her.

Causing Bette to mumble something and Dot to reach out a loving caress.

They snuggled down. The four personed bed now somewhat smaller than before.

And warmer.

And wonderful.

"I love you, Daddy."

"I love you too, Annabel."

* * *

 **Hello, AHS Freakshow readers!**

 **And happy holidays if you celebrate! :D**

 **This chapter is dedicated to King Reeses, who inspired me to pen this chapter.**

 **I hope you like it, man, and thanks for pushing me to come back to this story!**


	26. Inseparable

I do not own American Horror Story: Freak Show.

But it will always be near and dear to my heart.

And Baby Makes Four

Inseparable

* * *

The coffee was lovely.

As was the croissant.

"This was a delightful idea, Sister."

Bette smiled happily at her.

"I agree."

The diner was quiet, only a few patrons lingering over their breakfasts before departing to continue about their day.

"You know what would be a real treat, Bette?"

"Tell me."

"I'd just love to go to Bloomingdale's. Windowshop a little."

Bette smirked fondly at her twin sister.

"You don't want to windowshop. You want to see if that blue dress is still on sale."

"And you just want to see if those pearl earrings are still there."

They grinned happily at each other.

"Why, sister dear, it's almost like you can read my mind."

Dot winked slyly at her sister, her best friend.

"Well, wouldn't that just be the living end?"

The waitress came over, smacking her gum with ruby red lips.

"More coffee, ladies?"

Dot smiled kindly, whilst adamantly placing a decisive hand over her cup.

"Thank you, but I'm all done."

Bette, on the other hand . . .

"Maybe just a half for me, please."

. . . chose to not even fight temptation.

The waitress obliged without hesitation.

"Anything else, honey?"

Bette shook her head, already lifting the refilled coffee cup for an appreciative sip.

"No, thank you," Dot replied graciously.

And the waitress ambled away.

Her left hand had always been her dominant hand as long as she could remember.

She took the ticket now, inspected it . . .

"I'd call it 'highway robbery' except it was so good."

. . . muttering to a giggling Dot as she did so.

"Here, let me treat you, Skinflint Sally," Dot cooed as she fished the coins out of her bag with her right hand.

They also decided to leave a generous tip for the waitress.

And then left the diner.

Out on the freshly washed sidewalk, they strolled easily.

Admiring the clouds . . .

"Think I'll need to water my azaleas if this fair weather keeps up, Dot . . ."

. . . the breeze . . .

"Oooh, smell that bread!"

. . . and the casual greetings of the other passersby.

"Good morning!"

"Ladies."

"Well, aren't you two darling dolls!"

Bette tried to not to blush as a blond, strutted greaser passed her with an appreciative once over.

 _Well, of course he's looking. I am quite lovely in this green A line._

Just as Dot seemed to embody the perfection of the blue pencil skirt.

The day seemed perfect.

And it was.

They meandered.

Laughed.

Chatted.

It seemed as if they had always been thus.

Close in spirit.

Close in truth.

Close in proximity.

And Elizabeth Ann Tattler was very content and happy indeed.

"How is your painting going, Bette?"

She smiled at her dear sister's question.

"Good! I just feel transported when I'm working with those colors. And the children? How are your students?"

Dot shook her head, smile lightening her slightly sarcastic reply.

"Oh my. Some days I just wonder if I shouldn't be a ringleader in a traveling carnival."

They laughed together.

Bette hugged her briefly.

"Oh, Sister dear, I'm so glad we have had this time together, just the two of us. It seems like it's been forever."

Dot nodded.

"And we used to be nearly inseparable."

Bette turned away from their window shopping, hugging her sister.

"Oh, I have enjoyed our time today, Dot."

Dot kissed her cheek fondly.

"Me too. You will always be the one closest to my heart, Bette. No matter what."

And with that, Dorothy Jean Tattler released her hold on her sister.

And stepped away.

Lovely and angelic as the sunlight haloed her slender frame.

And Bette looked upon her.

"I love you, sister."

"I love you."

* * *

The tears were on her cheeks even as Bette opened her eyes from the dream and rejoined the land of the daylight hours.

She tried to stay quiet, but Dot stirred nonetheless.

 _Bette? What is it?_

 _Nothing, sister._

 _Well, it's surely not nothing. You're crying._

 _Yes, but . . . I'll be okay. I . . . I love you, Dot._

 _I love you too, Bette._

And with their Jimmy laying next to them, sweet, darling Annabelle curled into him, Dot hand upon his arm where he could feel it, they lay together.

Inseperable Siamese twins.

Sharing organs, muscles, sinews, skin, thoughts.

And with the same love connecting the rest of them.

 _Are you going to be alright, Bette?_

 _Yes, sister. Just . . . give me a minute._

It took a little more than that.

But she was alright.

At least she thought she was.

* * *

 **Hello! I don't know if you enjoyed this, thecarouselneverstopsturning, but I tried. :)**

 **If you do decide you didn't and choose to write your own, I'm sure it'll be awesome!**

 **Thanks, King Reeses, autumnrose2010, and DinahRay, for your reviews!**


	27. Jimmy and the Monkey

I do not own American Horror Story: Freak Show.

But it will always be near and dear to my heart.

And Baby Makes Four

Jimmy and the Monkey

* * *

". . . very, uh, curious. Okay . . ."

Daddy Jimmy's bedtime story reading paused.

At first Bette and Dot, finishing their straightening of the kitchen, . . .

"Why don't you girls leave that until later."

"But Jimmy, the dishes will dry dirty. We'll never get the gunk off them."

"So soak 'em. No reason you two should slave over stuff that can wait. Come be with us."

"Yeah, Ma-Ba, Ma-Da. Come play dolls."

. . . took no notice.

 _Jimmy was right, sister. This is much more relaxing._

 _Yes, it is._

They continued in their domestic chores, lost pleasantly in thought.

That turned out to be one and the same.

 _I love when he reads to her._

 _It's so sweet._

All was quiet and calm and peaceful.

 _We have a good life, Dot._

 _Yes, we do, Bette._

Then . . .

"Where did you get this book?"

They turned to see their Jimmy, hook hands deftly balancing the yellow hardback children's book he had been reading moments ago to his child as if it were a snake.

A stern frown furrowed his handsome visage.

"Jimmy? What is it?"

 _What's going on, sister?_

 _I don't know, Bette. I only read your mind._

"Where did this book _come_ from?" Jimmy reiterated.

Bewildered Dot, powder blue kitchen glove on her hand, waved vaguely.

"Lucy brought it on loan from the library."

Bette, pink kitchen gloved hand resting on her hip, stared quizzically at her husband.

"Jimmy?"

His face was priceless.

"The monkey!"

 _Sister?_

"Yes? What?"

 _You've got me._

"He's _stoned_!"

The Tattler-Darling-Walker Siamese Twins stared uncomprehendingly at the father of their precious little seven-almost-eight year old heterchromiated daughter.

"What?!"

Jimmy, former freakshow member.

Juggling Lobster Boy.

Chaser of girls.

Avid opium/orgy party participant.

Was offended.

Mortified.

Incensed.

"The stupid monkey is stoned on _ether_! What the hell is _wrong_ with this _writer_?! What the hell is wrong with Lucy bringing my child this _book_?! What the-"

Together, as always, for there could no other way for them, Bette and Dot stepped forward.

Gently dislodged the book from Jimmy's metal grasp.

And sat down with it at the freshly cleaned kitchen table.

Jimmy hovered over the shoulders as they opened the book.

Dot surmised the events briefly as she turned the pages one at a time . . .

 _Curious George the monkey . . ._

. . . as Bette . . .

 _Oh, he's so cute!_

. . . provided some slightly distracting color commentary.

. . . _gets a job . . ._

 _Wait, why is he on a construction site?_

 _. . . breaks his leg . . ._

 _Oh my goodness, who sends their pet to work up on a steel girder?!_

 _. . . goes to the hospital . . ._

 _I don't think he's a pet, Bette._

 _. . . wanders around . . ._

 _More like a . . . really hairy . . . adopted monkey son?_

 _. . . and finds a giant bottle of . . ._

 _Why is a monkey in a human hospital unattended?_

 _. . . ether._

 _And why is a giant bottle of ether sitting out on the floor?_

"There, right _there_ ," Jimmy demanded, pointing a hook.

Dot, now nearly completely turned around, began to read aloud to keep her thoughts straight.

". . . his head began to turn . . ."

 _Oh . . ._

". . . then he felt like he were flying . . ."

 _. . . my . . ._

". . . then rings and stars danced before his eyes . . ."

 _. . . goodness, Dot._

". . . then everything went dark."

Dot stopped reading, aghast.

The cartoon monkey on the page lay flat on his back in front of a giant bottle marked 'Ether'.

With a completely estatic and clearly euphoric smile on his unconcious baby simian face.

"See," Jimmy proclaimed triumphantly. "That damn monkey was _high_! Why are they writing this for _children_ to read?!

His overly dramatic response to what was most definitely an unexpected twist to a seemingly harmless children's storybook might have been funny to his loving wives.

Considering the tawdry and murderous situations in which he had been involved with over the earlier years of his life.

If not for the fact . . .

"Daddy, are we going to finish the story now?"

. . . that Bette and Dot were just as baffled as he was.

"No, we are _not_!" Daddy Jimmy declared.

Turning abruptly away from the offensive text. Carefully scooping up his little white night gown clad, curly haired little girl in his arms.

And stomping decisively from the room.

"But Daddy, I want to know what happened to Curious _George_!" Annabelle Margaret protested in outrage.

Jimmy's voice was fading as he sojourned with his precious progeny back to her dimly lit room.

"I'll _tell_ you what happened! Curious George woke up and it was all a dream and he was safe in his bed and he got up and went to school like a good boy!"

Annabelle's sweet little voice was strangely adult and long-suffering as she spoke.

"Daddy, he's a _monkey_."

"Monkey," her father amended obediently.

"And anyway, how can a monkey go to school, Daddy? He'll poop _everywhere_ -"

 _Oh good lord, sister._

 _I know, Bette._

Dorothy Jean turned the next page.

"Oh, well," she intoned wearily. "At least he lives."

* * *

The next day they returned Curious George Gets a Job to their good friend and next door neighbor, Lucy .

With a brief discussion of concern for some of the finer plot points of the cheery tale.

Evenso, at random moments over the next few weeks, they would hear muttered grumbling trailing off after their usually bouyant lifepartner.

". . . baby monkey . . . high as a kite . . . children's book, my ass . . ."

Once, the beginnings of a further inquiry . . .

"Daddy, can we get some more books about monke-"

"NO, WE MAY _NOT_!"

. . . ended rather abruptly.

And they eventually moved on to other . . .

"The Travels of Doctor Dolittle. Oh crap. Does he gets tanked too, you know, talking to animals and all?"

"No, Jimmy."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes, we checked."

. . . less controversial tales.

"Daddy, you're silly."

"No, baby girl, I'm paranoid."

"No, you're silly."

"Okay, I'm silly and paranoid. Come on, let's read."

* * *

 **Hello again!**

 **Yep, totally not making up the Curious George thing.**

 ***facepalm***

 **And people think I'm weird.**

 **Anyway, thanks to King Reeses, autumnrose2010, and brigid1318 for reviewing.**

 **I plan to start back working on this tale again little more consistently for a while. I've always known where I wanted it to go, I just got distracted with other things.**

 **So see you again soon!**


	28. Various Forms of Mild Hysteria

I do not own American Horror Story: Freak Show.

But it will always be near and dear to my heart.

And Baby Makes Four

 ***Warning: Offensive racist slurs** **used in context below. I do not advocate any of it.***

Various Forms of Mild Hysteria

* * *

Jimmy, as a rule, was not a particularly avid sports fan.

"I just don't get the big deal."

As a child, he never played catch with his absent father.

"It's just a game."

He certainly didn't have the opportunity to get picked to play pickup games with the other nonexistent kids in Elsa's freakshow.

"They don't even do that much."

And he generally believed that someone was throwing something at you or running at you, it was not a good situation to be involved in.

"Oh please, Jimmy."

That being said . . .

"It's the first one."

. . . it wasn't always about him.

"And you know we don't feel comfortable going to the ones in town."

Or Dot, to be honest.

"And you never know, you might like it."

Bette was a valuable and equal part of their unique little union too.

"I'll make popcorn."

And she really _really_ wanted to watch the very first Superbowl.

"Okay, let's do it."

* * *

"Faster, McGee, run faster!"

". . . scores the touchdown!"

"Yes!"

Jimmy, sitting in his chair glanced over at Dot.

". . . thirty-five to ten victory!"

 _Bette._

Who . . .

 _Bette?_

. . . was trying valiantly to retain her patience . . .

 _Bette, you're jostling me to death._

. . . with her somewhat excited twin sister.

 _Bette-_

"Did you see that?! We won!"

Jimmy grinned.

"Green Bay? Wisconsin? We live in Florida, Bette."

To which the wife he was currently addressing shooed him away with a flap of her hand.

"Oh, it doesn't matter if you live there or not, Jimmy! You can cheer for whoever you want to!"

He smirked fondly at her, with her light sheen of persperation on her forehead.

And a gleam in her eye.

"Well, I'm glad you enjoyed it."

She nodded emphatically.

"Yes, I did!"

And spoke again.

"Let's go have sex!"

And that was the start of 1967 for the Walker family.

* * *

Dot didn't need a brand new full color TV . . .

 _Our old one is just fine, Bette._

. . . to see that Dragnet . . .

"Just the facts, ma'am."

. . . was just the absolute best show out there.

On the other hand, Bette . . .

 _Oh, aren't they just the sweetest thing?!_

. . . couldn't get enough of . . .

". . . say we monkey around . . ."

. . . Davy Jones and the antics . . .

" . . . no bargain in the shade."

. . . of his musically inclined pals.

As Jimmy dutifully . . .

"Yes, Master! What would you like me to do for you, Master?"

. . . averted his eyes from the sheerly clothed girl in the genie lamp.

And eventually, they turned off their favorite programmings.

"Come on, Annabel! Let's get some sun today!"

And went outside.

* * *

But the world outside was turning.

Things that had been swept under the rug for far too long were coming to a head.

Boiling under the surface of America.

Erupting, more often than not, into violence.

". . . no woman ever run in the Boston Marathon before! It ain't right!"

Jimmy glanced up from his post at the cash register.

Pursuing the local news . . .

 _Jam making contest, huh? I'll volunteer to judge. I like jam._

. . . to see an irate man in a well to do suit and hat appoaching slowly with an ice cold cola glass.

And a decidedly negative attitude toward females.

". . . think she is anyway?"

He thought about keeping quiet.

". . . know her place in a man's world."

But decided it was his store after all.

"What's the matter with a dame running a race if she wants to?"

And this guy was getting in his nerves.

This guy who set down his glass bottle with a thump.

Grunting irritably as he dug in his pants pockets for loose change.

"Women can't run! It's ain't respectable!"

Jimmy stared blankly at him.

 _Why?_

Then he shrugged, easy, disarming smile ready upon his face.

"Well, at least it's up in Boston and not down here. So we don't have to worry about it too much then, huh?"

The man glared at him, tossing down his coin on the counter, continuing to ramble as Jimmy made change.

"See, that's the _problem_ now! You think it's going on far away and then _boom_! It shows up on your doorstep!"

He turned to his buddy.

"Did you know Milton's wife wants to go back to _secretary_ school? When she's got a house to run. I told him, a woman belongs . . ."

And then they were gone, little bell above the door dining to signify their departure.

Jimmy gazed after them for a moment.

 _Boston Marathon. Who wants to run that long anyway?_

Not that big a deal to him.

 _If she wants to run, let her run._

 _Who cares?_

But he thought on it nevertheless.

It and the reaction of the man in his store.

* * *

"Are you two happy?"

Jimmy's wives looked up from their separate evening readings.

Bette, Valley of the Dolls. Dot, The Cat Who Could Read Backwards.

Jimmy, in his brown armchair, quietly pensive.

The Carol Burnett Show forgotten, Eunice Higgins's screech owly tirade muted and abandoned.

 _Where is did this come from, sister?_

 _I don't know, Bette._

"Jimmy, is this about Eunice?"

He briefly looked perplexed.

"What? No. I just mean, are you two . . . un . . . satisfied . . . here with me . . . as . . . housewives?"

 _Oh, bless him, sister._

 _Yes. So much._

Bette smiled gently while Dot spoke.

"Jimmy, our life isn't like everyone else's but that's okay. It's good. And it's ours."

As Jimmy mused over this, Bette took up the thread.

"We're fine. And if things change, we'll let you know."

He chewed the inside of his lower lip.

"Okay. I just want you two to be happy."

Identical smiles beamed lovingly at him.

"We are."

* * *

"Daddy, what does rioting mean?"

They were in the backyard, Annabel proudly showing off her hula hooping skills.

Tired Daddy Jimmy on the grass, soaking up the late afternoon sun.

Mama Bette and Mama Dot visiting with Lucy for a few hours.

"What? Where did you hear that word?"

Annabel Margaret Walker's seven year old face was utterly innocent.

"A teacher at school was talking to another teacher in the hall saying all the niggers were rioting in Detroit and she was afraid all the niggers down here would start rioting too."

 _Whoa._

Jimmy took a deep breath and gestured his only child to come sit on his knee.

She dropped her hula hoop and did as she was bade.

When she was settled and attentive, her father carefully continued.

Keeping his voice even and calm.

"Annabel, 'nigger' is a bad word and you shouldn't say it."

She gazed up innocently at him.

"Why?"

 _"You're just a bunch of freaks!"_

"Because it's a very hurtful word."

She considered this.

"Like when I called Patty a prissy pants for not wanting to touch a dead frog?"

Jimmy cleared his throat.

"Um, sort of. But alot worse."

Her awe was palatable.

"Wow. That's _really_ bad."

He nodded seriously.

"Yep. So don't say it anymore, alright?"

"Alright."

She hesitated.

"But what if _other_ people say it?"

Jimmy scrunched up his nose, squinted his dark eyes at her.

"If other people eat their boogers, are you going to too?"

She screeched in disgust.

"No, Daddy! That's stupid! And gross!"

Jimmy nodded and winked.

"Alright then."

He kissed her head and started to nudge her up off his lap.

 _I'm going to have a word or two with-_

But Annabel wasn't quite finished yet.

"But Daddy, what's 'rioting' mean?"

 _Oh hell, I forgot all about that._

"Uh, rioting means, uh, fighting and tearing stuff up because you're angry."

The cloudless sky spun out overhead while Annabel thought.

"Like I did when I was a baby?"

Jimmy shook his head.

"Um, no, not really."

* * *

"What the hell kind of school are you _running_ here?! Don't your damn teachers know how to shut their mouths in front of the _kids_?!"

"Please, Mr. Walker, there's no need for that kind of language-"

"What about the language your idiot teachers are using in front of _seven_ year olds?!"

"Well, although it is an unfortunate and dated term, it is not technically curse-"

"Well, it damn well should be!"

"Please, Mr. Walker-"

"Don't you 'please, Mr. Walker' me!"

* * *

 **Okay, first off, I apologize for the language. But to modify it otherwise would have been disingenuous to the content. So I hope you understand.**

 **As for the rest, well, let me know, okay?**

 **Thanks to autumnrose2010 and King Reeses for reviewing.**

 **See you soon!**


	29. Be True to Your School

I do not own American Horror Story: Freak Show.

But it will always be near and dear to my heart.

And Baby Makes Four

Be True to Your School

* * *

It was a cool February morning in 1968 when a baffled Bette and Dot Walker and their exuberant seven year old daughter walked into Jimmy's mom and pop store unannounced.

"What are you girls doing here? "

He was always glad to see them of course.

But . . .

"It's school time!"

Bette opened her mouth but little crowing Annabel beat her to it.

"I don't have to go to school anymore, Daddy!"

Jimmy suspiciously side-eyed his joyous daughter.

Who threw him another rapturous smile and gleefully skipped away down one of the aisles.

Then he turned to his wives in a panicked whisper.

"She got kicked out of school _permanently_?!"

Dot shook her head as Bette spoke.

"No, the schools have all been shut down! Most of the teachers went on strike and there aren't enough left to teach all the kids. They just sent everyone home!"

Jimmy oggled in bewilderment.

"Well, what the hell does _that_ mean?!"

From unseen, Annabel's voice chirped out merrily.

"It means I don't have to go to school _EVer aGAIN_!"

Dot rolled her eyes in frustration.

"That is _not_ what it means, Annabel Margaret!"

"Yes, it _DOES_!"

Bette looked worried as Dot reined in her frustration.

"It's happening all across the state! They planned it! It's been on the radio all morning!"

Annabel skipped over, giant smile on her angelic face.

"Yep! I'm NEVER going to have to go back to school again! 'Cause there won't be any!"

She ran behind the counter to the dumbfounded Jimmy.

Wrapped an arm around him comfortably.

"I'll just work here with Daddy and learn how to be a store owner."

Bette smiled confidently and chided her daughter.

"Annabel, you're too young to do that."

To which the precocious child fired back.

"No, I'm not! Watch this!"

And she scrambled up on Jimmy's stool, nearly tipping it over in the process.

But perservering all the same.

Then she set her face, adopting a mature, polite demeanor.

"Good afternoon! May I help you find anything today?"

Her mothers stared at her.

 _Oh my, sister._

 _We're in trouble._

 _Yes, we are._

Then her Ma-Da attempted to rally.

"Well, you'll just have to take school from us then."

Annabel shrugged without alarm.

"That's okay. I already know everything anyway."

And Jimmy snorted with laughter.

* * *

The arrangement actually worked well for the Walker family.

In the mornings, Annabel read books aloud with her mothers and practiced her handwriting.

She also helped them clean and prepare light lunches.

She played dolls and took naps.

And received all the extra hugs and kisses her little heart desired.

One afternoon a week, she painted with Lucy.

One afternoon a week, she played with Kathy, whose daughter daughter Patty was 'too grown to play baby stuff.'

"Hey! I'm no baby!"

The other three days, she 'helped' Jimmy in his store.

She was actually quite good at it.

"Okay, Annabel, this gentleman has just given us five dollars. But his groceries only cost three dollars and ninety-five cents. How much should we give him back?"

Squinched up heterchromiated eyes. Pursed lips.

Staring at the money on the counter and the money in the register.

"Two dollars?"

"No, remember I said before-"

"One dollar!"

"And . . ."

Resumed glaring in concentration at the countertop.

Then-

"Five cents?"

"Good! Now which one is five cents?"

"The nickel."

"And which one is that?"

"That one."

Jimmy gave his patient patron an appreciative wink.

Then-

"Good job! Okay, hand him his change."

"Here you go!"

The man tipped his hat to her.

"Thank you, little miss! And this tip is for you."

He placed the nickel back on the counter.

She grabbed it, beaming.

"Thank you!"

"Most welcome."

Then he shifted his gaze to Jimmy.

"You've got quite an intelligent young helper there. You should be proud."

Jimmy's chest puffed up with pride.

"Thank you!"

The men nodded to one another.

The man took his paper bag and turned to leave.

"Come back again!" Annabel sang out.

"Oh don't worry, I will!"

The tinkle of the bell signaled their patron's exit.

And Annabel turned excitedly to her father.

"Look, Daddy, I got a nickel!"

"Yes, you did!"

Jimmy kissed the top of her head.

But Annabel, true to nature, wasn't done.

"What's a tip?"

"It's extra money for a job well done."

"Ohhh . . ."

* * *

"And one dime."

"Thank you, my dear. Well, have a nice da-"

"Aren't you going to give me my tip?"

"Annabel-"

"Pardon _me_?"

"Aren't you going to give me a tip for a job well done?"

"Annabel-"

A cool pair of aged blue eyes outlined by owl-eye shaped spectacles rose from the uncomprehending child to her suddenly raspberry-colored father.

"Is your daughter always so _presumptuous_ to strangers?"

"I'm sorry, she's still learning."

The woman was not impressed.

"Hmph."

And the tinkle of the bell signaled the departure of the their patron, disapproval following behind in her wake.

"Annabel, you can't-"

"Daddy, what's . . .' presumptuous' mean?"

"Well . . ."

* * *

The meatloaf, as usual, was delicious.

With pleasant conversation enjoyed all around.

"Annabel, did you enjoy your afternoon with Daddy at the store?"

"Yep."

A pause.

"Boy, that garbage pick up was a real bitch today, wasn't it Daddy?"

Mostly.

And the child in question watched in bemusement as her parents choked on their mashed potatoes.

"What? That's what Billy the stock boy said."

Jimmy, struggling to recover, glanced at his wives.

"I'll talk to him tomorrow."

Still, all in all, it was a very pleasant month.

* * *

But as life is, all good things must come to an end.

"No, I don't _want_ to!"

Bette, along with Dot, took a stabilizing breath.

"Annabel, the schools are reopening tomorrow. You have to go."

"NO!"

"Annabel-"

 _"NO!"_

And then she simply burst into tears.

"I was a really good girl, wasn't I? And I read all the time and did my handwriting and helped clean and learned money with Daddy!"

Her face was a picture of misery.

"I want to stay home with you and go to work with Daddy! I want to play and be happy!"

Her tears were too much for her mothers.

 _Oh sister, can't we just? For a little while longer?_

And they scooped their precious little girl up in their arms and rocked her gently.

 _I don't know, Bette. I just don't know._

* * *

 **The Florida teachers' strike of 1968, Yep this really happened.**

 **And I'm sure it caused all kinds of uproar.**

 **Thanks to King Reeses and autumnrose2010 for your reviews!**


	30. The Smell of Smoke and Fear and Anger

I do not own American Horror Story: Freak Show.

But it will always be near and dear to my heart.

And Baby Makes Four

The Smell of Smoke and Fear and Anger

* * *

And then, without warning it seemed, the world simply exploded.

They were eating dinner with the Clarks that Thursday evening.

Pork chops with mushroom gravy.

Mashed potatoes and corn.

Rolls with butter.

Pineapple upside down cake and coffee for dessert.

Good food, good conversation.

And then the telephone rang.

The easy chatter paused but neither Thomas nor Kathy rose from their seats.

Mealtime was mealtime.

No interruptions.

When the phone ceased jangling, the camaraderie resumed.

". . . really should take a vacation to Yellowstone . . ."

" . . . not a dog, more of a push mop . . ."

Until abruptly, the phone began ringing again.

This time Thomas did rise . . .

"Pardon me. Might be Dad. He hasn't been feeling well lately."

. . . and went into the hall to answer it.

"Hello? Hey, Da- _what_?!"

Jimmy tensed worried for the elderly gentleman who had shown his family such compassion and kindness in the early years of his new family.

Kathy, ever the attentive hostess, kept up the small talk and was refilling their coffee cups when Thomas returned, his usually sanguine face gray.

"Children, go to the den."

His voice brooked no arguement and they went, Patty putting a finger to her lips to Annabel and tugging her hand to lead her from the room.

When they were gone, he spoke in an undertone.

"Dr. King's been assassinated."

The air was suddenly sucked out the room as the entire dinner party stared in shock.

"Oh my god," Kathy gasped, strong words for her. "What happened?"

Thomas shook his head.

"He was in Memphis to give a speech and someone shot him outside his motel room."

They sat in stunned silence a few long seconds.

Bette and Dot . . .

 _He was going to make the world a better place for everyone._

 _Just like President Kennedy._

 _And now he's dead just like him._

 _Oh my god._

And Jimmy.

Who, after years of peace, still remembered the boiling outrage, the blind fury of suffering such brutal injustice and senseless cruelty at the hands of the evil of the world.

What he had done to the policeman.

Dandy.

"Looting and rioting has already broken out in Memphis."

And he and Thomas came to the same conclusion simultaneously.

"We should get home before there's trouble here."

The adults nodded in accord and called the children.

Who arrived much too quickly too avoid suspicion.

If the grownups had been paying them much mind.

"It's time to go home now, Annabel."

She immediately balked.

"We haven't had dessert yet! Aunt Kathy made cake!"

Not desiring to wade through a time consuming arguement with an almost eight year old who could nearly convince the sky it was green, Bette and Dot slapped stiff smiles on their faces and scooped up their daughter.

"We'll have cookies and milk before bed, okay? We need to go now."

And with anxious hugs around, a promise to call upon arrival, and brave smiles, the Walker family drove out into the uncertain night.

* * *

They made it home safely.

Made their phone call to Kathy, who answered on the first ring.

Let Annabel dawdle a little longer than usual over her cookies and milk.

And put her in the tub.

With suds in her hair and bubbles coming out of her mouth, Annabel Walker unintentionally threw her cohorts under the bus.

"Ma-Ba, Ma-Da, what's assassinated mean?"

 _Am I surprised, sister?_

 _I can't see how, Dot._

And they adopted mildly stern expressions to their bubble bathed baby girl.

"We thought Mr. Clark sent you to the den."

Annabel shrugged.

"We hid in the hall. So what's it mean?"

 _What should we do, Dot?_

 _What we always try to do, Bette. Tell her the truth in a way she can understand it._

 _But the truth is so . . . ugly._

 _It is. And it's not going to get any better._

So the Siamese twin mothers of Annabel Walker cleared their throats, swiped at their eyes . . .

"Oh boy, it must be really bad. You don't usually act so much like mirror ladies unless it's really bad."

 _She's so precious. I don't want to expose her to this._

 _Neither do I._

. . . and grasped each other's hands for support.

"Well, Annabel . . ."

* * *

She understood.

And she didn't.

First she got quiet.

"Okay."

Then she asked alot of questions.

"Why did they kill him?"

"Who?"

"Whoever."

"Because they didn't agree with him."

"But why?"

* * *

Then they tried to put her to bed.

"Will you read one more book?"

But Annabel . . .

"Can I have a drink of water?"

. . . just wouldn't . . .

"I need to pee."

. . . go.

Finally, Jimmy confronted her.

"Okay, Annabel Margaret, you need to go to sleep."

She seemed so small and vulnerable as she spoke.

"I can't. You might get assassinated while I'm asleep and go away."

Jimmy's heart ached for his daughter and he softened his stern voice.

"Oh baby girl, no one is going to do that. I'm not important to anybody."

Her heterchromiated eyes big and round and scared.

"You're important to me."

And he hugged her as tight as he could.

"Do you want to sleep in the bed with us tonight?"

His little girl's voice radiated relief.

"Yes, please."

* * *

Jimmy awoke that night to distant sirens and flickerings of fire and whiffs of smoke wafting through the nightsky.

He stepped out onto his front stoop, Bette and Dot hovering close behind.

"What is it?"

Annabel was still curled up in their bed, finally enveloped in the sleep of the innocent and unafraid.

"Trouble," he replied vaguely. "But I think maybe not here."

He didn't see his wives looking nervously around. But he could feel it.

"Should we . . . leave?"

He shook his head a little, squinching into the unsettled night.

"I don't think it would help. Everybody's mad everywhere."

Then they reluctantly returned to bed.

And only their daughter slept well the reminder of the night.

Snuggled between her mothers and father.

Safe and protected and well.

* * *

All up and down the street was shattered glass and debris and the lingering smell of molotov cocktailed destruction.

Bricks had been thrown through the front windows of Jimmy's store, most of the inside stock looted.

And still, in the midst of everything, all Jimmy could think of was . . .

 _Oh god. How am I going to take care of my family now?_

. . . his darlings.

* * *

 **Nothing much extra to say about this chapter except the world can be such a mess at times, ugh.**

 **Thanks to King Reeses and autumnrose2010 for your reviews!**


	31. Maybe Because It Was A Leap Year

I do not own American Horror Story: Freak Show.

But it will always be near and dear to my heart.

And Baby Makes Four

Maybe Because It Was a Leap Year

* * *

The mild winter had given way to a tender spring and, eventually, melted into a Florida summer.

The grief-fueled race riots seemed to somewhat ebb while Vietnam protests and demonstrations escalated at an alarming rate.

And the lengths of . . .

 _Mini, sister?_

 _I'm_ not _wearing that, Bette._

. . . skirts worn by the most fashionably minded amongst them continued to shorten.

The Beatles and The Doors mystified and set free the imaginations of those with magic in their souls.

Everything of which was a slight, unimportant haze to Annabel Margaret Walker.

Who, amid the flood of tensions and uncertainties and fears of the world at large, was, finally allowed to stay home for the reminder of the schoolyear with her Ma-Da and Ma-Ba.

Taught and loved and protected within the shelter of their home.

And the general vicinity.

Many were not so lucky.

Robert Kennedy, presidential candidate and brother to the late John, was assassinated in June.

The war in Vietnam continued to claim the lives of guilty and innocent alike as well as those stuck somewhere in grey areas of politics and fate and choice.

Massive tornadoes ripped through the Midwest, leaving a path of destruction and desolation as though the gods themselves were commenting on the sorry state of human affairs.

Charles Heston met up with some damn dirty apes . . .

"Oh, that's an easy fix. Just one giant bottle of ether-"

"Jimmy!"

"What?"

. . . and ensuing events did not play out well.

Thin but sturdy plywood was nailed up on the front of Jimmy's mom and pop store to cover empty glass encasements.

The shelves were restocked, at cost.

And the small team of staff . . .

"And, Billy, watch the language around my kid, okay?"

"No sweat, man."

. . . reassembled.

The store reopened. Customers filtered back in.

"Good to see you back, Jimmy."

"Thank you, Mrs. Dales. Nice to be back."

Business resumed.

At some time along in there, Jimmy turned forty.

 _Hey, look at me! I'm still alive!_

Rosemary found out her baby really _was_ the son of Satan.

While Bette and Dot's forty-sixth celebration . . .

 _Is that . . . is that . . . a grey hair?!_

 _Pull it out , sister and we won't tell a damn soul._

. . . felt a touch more emotionally and follically charged.

Fear and anger and discontent and outrage seemed to be the new societal norm they all lived in the shadow of day in and day out.

Nobody really felt safe anymore.

People in charge weren't so easily awarded the trust of the nation.

"Nixon? Really?"

"Why?"

"Oh, come on, he looks like a puppet from Howdy Doody!"

"Jimmy!"

"What?"

The magic that had once been Camelot was crumbling away.

And like so many others, the Walker family was just trying to traverse it all as best they could.

The Flying Nun helped.

 _What. The. Hell?_

 _Oh hush, sister, it's fun._

September proved to be especially difficult as . . .

". . . brand new grade."

"Yeah, and the same dumb kids!"

 _She's not wrong, Dot._

 _Hush, Bette._

. . . the time had come for Annabel Margaret to return to school.

As a second grader.

* * *

Her parents, much to the initial anxiety of Mr. Reed, had descended upon the principal's office to calmly discuss allowing Annabel to advance to the next grade despite not having technically completed the last.

And it _was_ a calm, polite, respectful discussion.

Quite without any raised voices or profanity of any kind.

Mr. Reed, always moderately out of his depth regarding the affairs of the Walkers, did exhibit some sensibility.

The impromptu closing of the schools.

The fearful, uncertain public climate.

Annabel's previous academic disruptions.

And, after some brainstorming, quartet decided upon to the let the placement test speak to her capabilities.

The next day, a stern-faced Reed reviewed the results.

And called for another testing.

Tensions rising, Jimmy and Bette and Dot agreed.

And Annabel put pencil to paper again.

And again, Mr. Reed exhaustively considered the results.

And, with his face carefully set, folded his hands at his desk in his claustrophobic little office.

And relayed the information to the child's parents.

"Her reading comprehension and mathematical acume scores are well above her grade level. She could feasibly skip second grade all together and begin third grade tomorrow."

Jimmy, Bette, and Dot sat, stunned.

And proud.

 _That's my baby!_

 _She's just brilliant!_

 _I knew she was a genius with that money._

"She would be academically challenged there more so than in the second."

He cleared his throat.

"However, she may also face bullying and social ostrocism due to being younger and smaller than her peers."

Jimmy strove to keep the question as even as possible.

"And how would that be different than her getting bullied now?"

Mr. Reed answered the question directly and honestly.

"She may find it harder to fight back against older, bigger children."

Jimmy huffed in dersion.

"Annabel's never had trouble fighting back against _anyone_ so far."

The corner of the principal's mouth might have lifted a touch in amusement.

"Now _that_ I can believe."

 _What the hell is going on, Dot?_

 _Our fine Mr. Reed here likes our daughter, Bette. I think he wants her to kick some educational ass to spite it all._

 _So do I._

 _Me too._

"Would you to like to bring her in present the matter?" the gentleman offered mildly.

"We'll talk to her about it privately, if that's okay," her father repled in a voice that suggested he really didn't care if it was okay or not.

Reed nodded.

"Fair enough."

* * *

". . . third grade?"

Annabel's guarded face was still undeniably curious as Bette continued.

"You'd be in a hard class with kids who were bigger than you. We don't know if they'll be nice or not."

Annabel thought about it, then shrugged.

"I don't care. George and Patty are bigger than me and I'm not scared of them."

 _Oh lord, sister._

"They won't be quite _that_ big."

Annabel scrunched up her face and thought about it.

"Can I meet the teacher?"

"Let's ask Mr. Reed."

* * *

"Hello, Annabel. I'm Miss Wall."

The teacher was young, mid twenties, with softly curled red hair, blue eyes, and a kind smile.

"I've heard you're very smart and would like to come to third grade with me."

Annabel nodded slowly.

"Maybe. Are you mean?"

Her parents flinched with shared embarrassment.

 _That's our Annabel._

 _Yes, it is._

Miss Wall, however, seemed unperturbed by the rudeness of the question.

"I don't think so. Do you like music?"

Annabel nodded and the woman smiled.

"So do I."

Then she walked over to the wall of the room facing outside.

Against which stood an upright piano.

She sat down and patted the bench beside her.

Annabel obediantly went and sat next to her.

Miss Wall set a sheet of music on the tray.

And began to play.

Light, lively pain music filled the room as the woman's fingers flew effortlessly over the keys, feet pressing the pumps just enough to sustain certain chords perfectly.

Bette and Dot . . .

 _I love her already, sister._

 _Yes._

. . . and their husband stood pleasantly transported by the experience as Annabel sat motionless until the very last note died away.

Bette and Dot clapped appreciatively while Annabel continued to stare at her teacher in awe.

Finally, she spoke.

"How did you do that? That was amazing!"

Miss wall smiled.

"Many, _many_ years of practice and I still practice everyday."

She paused.

"Would you like to stay after school while I practice?"

Annabel nodded enthusiastically.

"Yes, please!"

Miss Wall glanced at the parents.

Who nodded without hesitation.

"And would you like to learn to play the piano as well, perhaps?"

Annabel scrunched up her nose.

"I don't know. It seems kinda hard."

Miss Wall laughed gently.

"Oh, it is and it takes a long time too. But you seem like a tough young lady."

Annabel nodded self assuredly.

"Oh, I am. Daddy was sitting on the floor one time and I accidently stepped on his balls and-

"Annabel!"

* * *

So Annabel Margaret went to third grade with Miss Marie Wall.

She cleaned the blackboard and swept the floor.

She practiced her multiplication facts and learned to enjoy . . .

". . . lived a hobbit."

. . . some slightly more advanced literature.

And . . .

"Why am I playing a song about a rabbit?"

"Because he's happy and fun and so are you."

. . . she began taking informal piano lessons.

And Annabel seemed . . .

". . . get a piano?"

"They're expensive, Annabel."

"Miss Wall has one!"

"We'll think about it."

. . . to like it very much.

* * *

 **So, Miss Wall is modeled after my mom. My grandmother used to say she would play the piano in her classroom when the kids started getting hyper. I don't know if that's true but it sounds sweet.**

 **Thanks to King Reeses and autumnrose2010 and brigid1318 for reviewing! You are all wonderful!**


	32. Young Love, Sort Of

I do not own American Horror Story: Freak Show.

But it will always be near and dear to my heart.

And Baby Makes Four

Young Love, Sort Of

* * *

1969 was the year of the Stonewall Riots, Woodstock, the Manson family murders.

Other than all that and so much more outside the immediate realm of their small, unique family, things were going well for the Walker family.

Jimmy's store had incurred enough business to replace the plateglass . . .

 _Hey, there's that sun!_

. . . that had been shattered a year ago.

Bette and Dot . . .

 _Go-Go boots?_

 _Not on your life!_

. . . still coexisted mostly peacefully.

And Annabel, though without significant friend or ally amongst her new peers, seemed to, nevertheless, flourish under the care and guidance of her beloved Miss Wall.

Attain an equilibrium, a peace, she had not had thus far in her education.

They thought.

Then in the middle of May, the Walker parents were summoned again to the office of Mr. Reed.

 _I was hoping we might be past this, Dot._

 _Wishful thinking, Bette._

And so they went.

The conjoined sisters clasping each other's hand anxiously.

And Jimmy, hook-handed as always outside of home, unable to fidget in such a manner.

Simply sat and waited for doom.

Mr. Reed cleared his throat.

"Annabel hit a boy in her class today."

The aforementioned female student's parents sagged in defeat.

Jimmy wished he could rub a weary hand over his face.

But decided against possibly losing an eye.

"Okay. What happened?"

Mr Reed folded his hands atop his desk in what Bette was beginning to ruefully think of as "discussion stance".

While Jimmy contemplated the man's hands.

"A little boy in her class tried to hold her hand."

Dot was sure she was going deaf.

"Excuse me, _what_ did you say?"

Mr. Reed's jaw worked for a moment before he spoke again.

"A little boy in her class, Daniel, tried to hold her hand during recess. She punched him in the eye."

 _That's what I_ thought _he said._

 _That seems excessive even for Annabel._

 _We need to talk to our daughter, Dot._

 _Yes, we do, Bette._

Jimmy seemed to be thinking the same thing.

"We'd like to see our daughter, please."

Mr Reed nodded and rose.

Going to the door, he opened it and summoned Annabel.

The girl, pink bow wilting in her blond hair.

Jaw set, eyes downcast and fuming.

She didn't speak to her parents, only stood silently.

"Annabel," Mr Reed directed mildly. "Please tell your parents what happened today."

She did not speak.

"Annabel?"

She drew in and blew out her breath in a quick, huff of exhalation.

And confessed without remorse.

"I punched Daniel in the eye."

Then she sulled up again.

And as no further information was forthcoming, Mr. Reed pressed gently again.

"Tell us why, please."

Annabel's lower lip pouted out as she remained quiet.

"Annabel."

Bette's voice, gentle and calm, nevertheless requested an explanation from her daughter.

The little girl remained mute as the moments passed until Dot was certain she would not speak.

And then she suddenly burst forth.

"I was just trying to be a good girl, Ma-Ba! I didn't want to get pregnant!"

The silence thundering from her stunned parents was so complete in the small space a cough might have sounded like a gunshot.

" _What_?"

Annabel folded her arms stubbornly, hands fisted.

"Clara said her mommy said her sister held hands with a boy last summer and got pregnant and had a baby. I don't want to have a baby, I'm too young!"

 _Was that the Caulfield girl that went to go live with her aunt in Indi-_

 _Not now, sister._

Dot reached out a comforting hand and rubbed her daughter's back while Jimmy cleared his . . .

 _I bet Ma is lovin' this._

. . . throat carefully, the back of his neck aflame.

It never occured to him that Ethel Darling might _not_ be watching over her heterchromiated granddaughter as he opened his mouth and addressed the cool, collected school administrator.

"I think we need to take her home and have a talk."

Mr. Reed nodded sagely.

"Yes, I think you do."

As her mothers and father led Annabel back into the main office area, Mr. Reed spoke to the child once more.

"I expect to see you bright and early in Miss Wall's class tomorrow, young lady."

Bette cast an appreciative smile back at the man standing in the doorway.

"Thank you, Mr. Reed."

Annabel didn't respond.

* * *

 _I wish there was a owner's manual for this,_ Jimmy thought vaguely. _But I probably wouldn't have read it anyway._

Jimmy and his darlings had _tried_ to be as informative as they could without going into too much detail.

Still, sex was sex.

And one can never unlearn the knowledge of it.

Annabel was understandably aghast.

"You did _that_?"

Jimmy fought apoplexy while Bette and Dot . . .

 _Oh Lord, Dot, I don't think this can get any worse._

. . . strove to maintain open, easy demeanors.

"Yes."

"With each _other_?"

"Yes."

"Did you like it?"

 _I was wrong._

"Yes. Because it's natural. And we love each other."

She seemed to ruminate on this.

"Do you do it _now_?"

 _Yes, you were, sister._

"Yes."

"When I go to Aunt Lucy's to paint?"

"Sometimes."

"Why do you still do it?"

 _Because it feels really, really good._

 _Shut up, sister._

 _Well, it does._

As the Bette and Dot were attempting to formulate an honest yet appropriate response to _that_ question, their inquisitive daughter offered up another one.

"Will I do it?"

 _Oh god, sister! Not our baby!_

And Dot could practically feel Jimmy's impending stroke threatening to take him down with urgency.

And she valiantly tried to refocus on the situation at hand.

"No, not for a long, long time yet. When you're much older. And in love with a good person."

 _Or just incredibly horny._

 _Sister!_

 _Chester Creb?_

 _Well . . .that was a long time ago. We were not . . . in order yet._

 _That's a nice way of putting it._

 _I am_ trying _, Bette._

 _We've got to guide Annabel better._

 _Yes we do._

Annabel, who was completely unaware of her mothers' inner turmoil.

"Well, good, because it sounds gross."

And very opinionated.

 _Not the way Jimmy does it-_

 _Bette!_

 _What?_

* * *

There were no more altercations on the playground or elsewhere in the school reported for the reminder of the year.

The boy Daniel, after getting punched in the face for trying to hold hands with his very first crush, did not make any more advances or even appear to notice Annabel at all anymore.

Understandably.

And life . . .

". . . The Wardrobe, Annabel?"

"What's a wardrobe?"

"Well, usually a large piece of storage furniture for clothing. But this one's _magical_."

"Ohhh . . ."

. . . went on, as per usual, for quite some time.

* * *

 **Seems about right for Annabel, doesn't it?**

 **Anyway, I won't regale you with the horror of my parents explaining the birds and the bees to me.**

 **But Jimmy and Bette and Dot did better by a mile, trust me. ;)**

 **Thanks to autumnrose2010, King Reeses, and brigid1318 for reviewing!**

 **Thanks also to Ziva-Zia-Z for adding your support to this tale.**


	33. Outside Themselves

I do not own American Horror Story: Freak Show.

But it will always be near and dear to my heart.

And Baby Makes Four

Outside Themselves

* * *

The Florida sun was warm, soaking right into their marrow.

Bathing them in vitamin D.

Bette and Dot, modestly clad in a green one piece, lounged contentedly.

Beside them, their next door neighbor and friend, Lucy Barrett.

Lucy, with her funky, pixie, Audrey Hepburn do.

Lucy, with her easy laugh and bright smile.

Lucy, who had now spent several years unassaulted and unmolested by any man of any kind.

Lucy, the gentle, kind primary school librarian.

Lucy the painter.

Lucy, the soft spoken, independent woman.

Who didn't need no man.

There was much to do. There was always much to do.

Supper to prepare.

Socks to darn.

Laundry to clean.

Round and round and round from day to day, week to week.

Year to year.

And that was okay.

That was normal.

That was life.

And sometimes life needed a little break.

A little pick me up.

Such as sunbathing with a good friend.

The world could go on without them for half an hour.

The cars could roll on down the street.

The birds could swoop and dive here and there overhead.

The people could come and go, back and forth.

On and on and on.

Neil Armstrong could walk on the moon and Sundance could tease Butch about using enough dynamite to blow up the train.

The mission could be impossible and everybody could pretend to be hip enough to read and understand Slaughterhouse-Five.

But the ladies were going to take a little breather.

And just let the world do its thing.

While they did theirs.

Bette and Dot would be listening in the back of their minds for the phone to ring if Kathy needed to contact them about Annabel's visit.

Lucy might cast a passing thought back to the look of curiosity and discovery on the faces of her students as she had recently read the brand new book The Very Hungry Caterpillar to them.

It was all distant and lazily relaxed.

Because sometimes life just needed to be so.

"This is nice."

Lucy made some sort of agreeable sound at Bette's murmur.

It went without saying of course.

"Yes, I'm glad we're all here."

But then so did alot of things.

And sometimes it was just nice to say them.

"How are you, Lucy? You've been very quiet lately."

The blue sundress shorted woman smiled with her eyes closed.

"I'm fine. Content. Happy. Just quiet."

The clouds drifted overhead.

Somewhere put there, the world was broken and in a rage and in pain.

They were damned if they could figure a way to fix it all.

But they could take care of each other.

"Are you lonely?"

Another lifetime seemed to pass before Lucy responded to Dot's quietly caring inquiry.

"No, I don't think so."

And as the earth turned and the universe spun, she spoke again.

"I know it seems odd to live without a companion. I always imagined being cared for by a man, it was what I grew up believing was supposed to happen."

She took a breath and let it back out.

"I feel joy and happiness with my friends. I feel satisfaction with my students, interesting them in reading. I'm not afraid anymore to speak with new people."

She paused again, as if ordering her words properly.

"Right after Max was gone, I just felt so relieved to be left alone. Not have to worry, tiptoe around another person all the time that the empty hole of another person constantly around all the time just didn't seem so bothersome. And then I filled it up with other things., other people."

A butterfly flitted into their eyelines and they watched the orange winged marvel until it bade them farewell and floated away on other adventures.

"How about now?" Bette gently pressed. "Do you feel ready to look for another man?"

"A better man?" Dot amended lightly.

Lucy remained quiet again and they let her until she was ready.

"No, I don't think so. I don't feel the desire to be in a romantic or sexual relationship with a man."

The sisters wished to support their friend who'd served her happiness.

"A woman?"

Lucy laughed easily.

"No. I don't think I want anyone at all. I think I just want to be by myself. I think I'm happy."

 _If she's happy, we're happy._

 _Yes._

"We love you, Lucy."

"I love you two, my friends."

And that was that.

* * *

"Lucy seems to be happy."

Jimmy nodded, manuevering his delicious bite of BBQ chicken thigh into his mouth.

Chewed for an appreciative few moments.

And swallowed before speaking.

"Good. She's been through enough. Let her be happy."

Annabel ignored them all, devoted to mixing her sweet peas into her potato mountain.

"Kathy and Thomas are planning a trip to Yosemite soon."

Another nod.

The food was good. He was eating.

"Everything seems to be looking up right now."

And it was.

* * *

Then, Dan Clark died.

It happened on a Monday afternoon in late summer.

Kathy called them up, crying so hard her words were barely intelligible.

And Bette and Dot and Jimmy and Annabel rushed right over.

Sitting, he had been sitting on his porch, rocking away the afternoon after a pleasant morning of fishing.

A neighbor lady who was fond of him had been bringing him a pie and found him alone.

Peaceful in his rocking chair, iced tea on the rickety stool beside him.

Whiskery chin drooped down on his chest, face slack.

She had thought he was sleeping, called his name.

Touched his shoulder.

And could not rouse him.

Sorrow growing in her own aged heart, she had gone to grab a hand mirror.

And checked his mouth and nose for breathing.

And directly rung the ambulance.

And Kathy.

Who in turn had rung Thomas.

Gathered the children.

And met them at the hospital.

"Oh, Kathy, we're so sorry."

* * *

The debate and worry over the funeral was long and exhaustive.

 _I just don't want everyone staring at us._

 _I just don't want to cause a stir at the funeral._

 _It might embarrass Kathy._

 _They might not leave us alone._

 _But we're their friends._

 _They'll understand._

 _I know they will._

 _Bette-_

 _Dot-_

 _I know._

And they worried, oh how the worried.

 _They're so kind and welcoming to us._

 _And Jimmy._

 _And Annabel._

 _Oh, sister-_

 _I know-_

They made a pie.

And a casserole.

Deviled eggs.

And a basket of rolls.

 _It's too much._

 _I know._

 _But I just feel guilty._

 _I know._

 _I wish the world was different._

 _Me too._

And took it all to their house.

Where they found . . .

 _Oh god, sister._

 _Stay strong, Bette._

 _I know . . . I . . . okay._

The predictable slew of relatives and wellwishers.

And all manner of people they didn't know and didn't know them.

People who would stare and oogle and whisper.

And point behind thinly veiled southern charm and propriety.

 _Bette-_

 _Dot-_

 _I just-_

 _I know-_

And they drove home, crying.

* * *

Jimmy and Annabel went later in their stead.

Were greeted with open arms and pecks on the cheek and murmurs of gratitude.

And eventually took their leave to reassurances that Bette and Dot were most loved and appreciated for their generous offerings.

Which only . . .

 _Oh Bette-_

 _I know-_

 _I feel worse._

 _Me too._

 _She's such a good friend._

 _Yes._

 _I can't-_

 _I know._

* * *

Jimmy also went to the funeral alone . . .

"He was my first boss out here in the world. I owe him for giving me a job. And the store."

. . . while Dot and Bette kept Annabel at home.

"It's okay, girls."

But it really wasn't.

They couldn't let it be.

 _I don't want to be away from you, sister._

 _Sister, I know-_

 _I just-_

 _I know._

And it took a while.

* * *

Kathy arrived one day, knocking their door.

Bearing a pie.

And tear filled hugs and kisses.

Bette and Dot sat her down.

Offered coffee. Tea.

"Kathy, we're so sorry about Dan."

Condolences.

Kathy, always the gracious lady, blotted her eyes, shaking her head.

"It was the way he would have wanted to go. Peaceful and easy. It's the way we should all go."

 _Not like Dandy._

 _No, not like that._

Kathy perked up a little then.

"He was a very kind man. A very good man."

The sisters nodded, remembering how nervous they had been to meet him.

How anxious . . .

 _Oh, sister, what if-_

 _I know, Dot. But we have to try. For Jimmy._

. . . they had been, so worried.

But Mr. Clark . . .

"So good to finally meet you ladies. Jimmy here talks about you as if you hung the moon."

. . . had never been anything less than most warm and gentlemanly.

Never staring . . .

"He said you were the most beautiful, kindest women he had ever laid eyes on."

. . . at the two headed, one bodied freak of a set of conjoined sisters.

"And I do believe he was right."

Only treating them as equals to any other women.

"Thank you, Mr. Clark. You are very kind to help our Jimmy."

A dismissive shake of the head.

"No kindness about it. Best employee I ever had!"

And they loved him for seeing beyond what others couldn't.

And though he was gone . . .

"And just think, sisters, without him, we never would have had the opportunity to become friends!"

. . . they would always be grateful for his role in their lives.

And in the end, it seemed easier and better.

* * *

 **Honestly I don't know where this chapter came from but I hope you enjoyed it!**

 **Thanks to King Reeses, autumnrose2010, DinahRay, and brigid1318 for graciously reviewing.**

 **Thanks also to enigmaticdepravity for adding your support to this tale.**


	34. Tying Up Loose Ends

I do not own American Horror Story: Freak Show.

But it will always be near and dear to my heart.

And Baby Makes Four

Tying Up Loose Ends

* * *

As it turned out, even in death, Dan Clark was not done with the Walker Family.

Years prior, he had bequeathed the running of his grocery store to a most grateful Jimmy.

Essentially making him manager.

And owner, if not in name, in responsibility.

Jimmy had never thought of it not being his.

He had never owned much of anything.

He had used, he had borrowed.

They still rented their house.

He had cared for the store, asking questions when he needed.

"Jimmy," Dan had admonished him one day after the fourth phone call. "I trust you. Trust yourself."

Then he had paused.

"Unless of course you don't actually have an iota. Then call."

Simply making the best decisions he possibly could as he became comfortable with being in charge.

Any extra money in the till was saved back immediately into a bank account for the store itself.

They had mourned the fallout from the riots together, toeing through the broken glass and overturned displays as the police patrolled the roads.

"Well, what do you think, Jim?"

Jimmy metal hands and human heart feeling heavier than normal.

Had taken a deep breath, bolstered himself up.

And made his decision.

"I think I can reopen by the end of next week."

The old man's watery eyes had seemed to glisten.

And he had clapped Jimmy a bone rattling clap on the back.

"Good. Glad to hear it."

The topic had never come up regarding the actual ownership of the grocery, both men seemingly satisfied with their working arrangement.

And life had gone on and on and on as life had a way of doing.

* * *

Not many weeks after Dan's death, Thomas Clark arrived out of the blue at his father's store.

Suit. Tie. Business.

And Jimmy felt unsure.

Uncomfortable.

And suddenly doubtful . . .

 _Pretty formal for milk and eggs, Tom._

. . . about the future.

 _Maybe he's really going to unload me now that Dan's gone._

And then Thomas Clark smiled.

"Good morning, Jimmy! Boy, looks the same as it always did."

And set his briefcase on the counter.

"Mind if we close up long enough to talk?"

Jimmy nodded and sent Billy the Cursing Stockboy first to lock the door and flip the sign.

And go on a break for an hour.

"Mind if we go to the lunch table?"

Jimmy nodded and Thomas took the lead to the back of the store.

"You know, I kissed my first girl back here. Over baloney sandwiches and cokes with salty peanuts in them."

 _Interesting. I kissed my first girl next to the weight guessing booth._

The large deli slicer gleaming, the smell of sliced meats wafting into their noses.

"So what's this all about, Thomas? Everything okay?"

Thomas nodded.

"Alright, I suppose. A little empty without Dad, you know. We used to talk in evenings, me or Kathy. Have him over for Sunday lunch."

The elder man trailed off, his mind adrift.

Eyes perhaps slightly moist.

But no tears of course. As real men at that time did believe they were allowed not cry.

"Anyway," he continued, clapping his hands lightly together, a gesture Jimmy found highly enviable. "Dad's will came through."

Jimmy nodded, never really having a will to take into consideration before.

In the freakshow, people just sort of took what they could use or wanted and discarded the rest.

In the 'real world', Jimmy had never known anyone to die so he really didn't know what the norm was.

"There was a small health insurance policy," Thomas informed Jimmy. "A helpful amount to assist with the children's college costs."

Jimmy nodded, still not sure why he was a part of this listing of assets that obviously had nothing to do with him.

"And," Thomas opened his briefcase. "the matter, of course, of the store."

Jimmy swallowed, clenching up again.

"Dad paid it off years ago, he was always very sharp and frugally minded."

Wondering if he was about to be out of a job.

"We discussed it at length, before you ask. On several occasions. Agreed upon it together."

Jimmy took a deep breath.

"And he wanted you to have it."

Jimmy stared at the man.

"What?"

Thomas smiled, folding his hands.

"Dad respected your hard work and your dedication, despite all of your difficulties with your . . ."

Gestured vaguely at Jimmy's hooks.

". . . hands. He wanted the deed signed over to you. Free and clear. Taxes paid for the first year."

Jimmy felt like he was about to fall over.

"I really think he almost thought of you as a second son, always said you've come so far since you first walked into the store and knocked over the pickle jars."

Jimmy felt his ears flame.

Walking in to inquire about the 'Help Wanted' sign in the window, one errant, clumsy metal hook catching the spicy pickle display.

Two jars dashing to the floor in a rush of brine and fermentation.

Dan'd come around the corner.

Looked at the mess on the floor.

At the agape Jimmy.

And then spoke mildly.

"Mrs. Connelly pickles those herself. Some of my best sellers."

 _Jimmy the Klutz_ , he thought ashamedly in the present. _I just knew I'd never get the job then._

But for some reason he had never been able to fathom, Dan _had_ offered him the job.

And the rest was history.

"So," Thomas was continuing. "He wanted you to have the deed for the place if you wanted it."

Jimmy frowned deep, then spoke.

"What about you, Tom? He was your dad. It's yours by right, I'd think."

Thomas Clark shrugged.

"I've been fine with it from the beginning. And it's been yours for a while, Jimmy. This is just a formality."

Jimmy finally felt a rush of excitement mingle with the surrealism. His grin was big and proud.

"Okay!"

Thomas nodded.

"Would you like to call home and, uh, break the good news to Bette and Dot first?"

Jimmy popped up.

"Oh yeah, yeah! Hang on a second!"

He was halfway to the phone, before it hit him that Thomas Clark had casually made the suggestion before even bringing out the paperwork to settle.

 _Smart guy_ , Jimmy thought vaguely. _Probably saved my ass on that one._

 _Hey girls, bought a store today!_

 _What?!_

 _Yeah, say by the way, what's for supper?_

It might not have gone so well.

"Hello?"

"Hey, Dot! You'll never believe what's going on . . ."

* * *

And so it was that Jimmy Darling Walker, former freakshow member and handless wonder, became the sole owner and proprietor of not Jimmy's Daring Den of Dark Delights Freakshow.

But of Clark's grocery store.

Sixty-eight.

West Main Street.

Brandon, Florida.

 _Hey, Ma! Look at this!_

 _I ain't surprised, Jimmy. You've always had ability to do well. I'm just proud._

 _Thanks, Ma._

* * *

 ** _Well, hopefully this ties up loose ends, as the title suggests._**

 ** _Thanks to brigid1318 and King Reeses for reviewing!_**

 ** _See you again soon!_**


	35. Annabel Walker vs The Wicked Witch

I do not own American Horror Story: Freak Show.

But it will always be near and dear to my heart.

And Baby Makes Four

Annabel Walker vs the Wicked Witch of Brandon, Florida

* * *

"Come on, Fonz, haven't you ever dreamed?"

"Hey, I'm not the dreamer! I'm the dreamee!"

 _I don't think that's a word, Bette._

 _The Fonz said it didn't he, Dot?_

 _Oh hush._

Jimmy and his darlings were contentedly ensconced on the sofa.

Half watching antics of Arthur Fonzarelli and the Happy Days gang.

Half watching Annabel lay on the floor, playing with her dolls.

All was peace and quiet and calm.

". . . got hit somebody! You know where Potsie is?"

In their world.

When there came a sudden set of three abrupt knocks on their front door.

Sharp and authoritative.

And completely unanticipated.

The Walkers jumped.

Even Annabel glanced up momentarily before returning to her quiet play.

 _What the hell?_

Jimmy looked to his darlings anxiously.

And rose from couch.

And activated the latch with a hook.

The woman standing on their front stoop was probably in her fifties.

Narrow in face and body.

Dressed in a brown skirt suit and no nonsense brown heels.

Wire rimmed glasses upon her sharp nose, through which dark eyes coolly surmised them.

Her grey brown hair was pulled back in a tight bun and there were no earrings hanging from her earlobes.

The entire presence of this newcomer was imposing and foreboding.

 _Sister?_

 _I know as much as you, Bette._

"May I help you?" Jimmy asked, sounding slightly bewildered.

The woman, maybe as tall as the former freakshow performer, still somehow managed to look down her nose at him.

"Good evening," she announced in a flat, cold voice. "My name is Eugenia Simmons and I work for the Florida Children's Bureau. May I come in?"

Jimmy remained where he was, blocking entry to his home from this uninvited guest.

"What's the Florida Children's Bureau?"

Eugenia Simmons also stood her ground, momentarily holding up identification.

"We investigate concerns of child abuse and neglect."

Dot slowly rose with Bette from the couch . . .

"Let me in please or I will be forced to return with authorities."

. . . nodding at Jimmy to let the woman in.

 _She's here to take our baby from us, Dot._

 _She won't do it, Bette._

Eugenia Simmons moved into the living room, hawk-like gaze piercing the tidy space in search of evidence of grievous misdoings.

 _We haven't done anything, sister._

 _Let me handle this, Bette._

Dot Tattler-Darling-Walker switched off the television set and turned to the woman who had come to steal away their only child.

"Good evening, Ms. Simmons," she greeted her formally, extending her hand. "Welcome to our home."

Eugenia Simmons appraised her without shaking the offered hand.

Dot lowered her hand and continued.

"How may we help you?"

Their unvited guest inspected with evident distaste the honored marriage certificates on the wall as well as Annabel's framed coloring and written exposition of her family.

 _She's soiling it with her eyes, Dot._

 _Shhh, sister. Stay calm. And fix your face._

Bette in vain attempted to pull her face into a more blank mask of detached calm like her counterpart.

And was relatively sure she had failed miaerably.

"You are . . . married then?"

Jimmy nodded, feeling more pissed off and violated by the minute.

 _In the freak show, you'd already be dead by now, lady._

"Yeah. By a real live ordained minister too."

She turned and stared at him questioningly.

"And you have _evidence_ of his qualifications as a clergyman?"

Jimmy wished he had fists to clench.

"No."

The woman nodded satisfactorily.

"I see."

 _That's it, I'm killing her._

But before he could take action, Eugenia Simmons produced a small, yellow legal pad from her brown handbag . . .

 _Everything this woman has is the color of shit._

 _Hush, sister._

. . . and a pen and began scribbling notes.

 _Be sure to write down we were watching 'Happy Days'! It encourages promiscuity!_

 _Bette-_

"I would like to inspect the premises, please."

It wasn't a request or a question.

"If you like," Dot complied, forcing herself to remain calm at the unwanted intrusion.

Eugenia Simmons nodded briskly amd turned, advancing without hesitation into kitchen.

 _Be sure to open the freezer for the dead bodies!_

 _Sister-_

Opening and closing cabinets and drawers.

Peering into the Frigidare.

Even lifting the lid on the freshly emptied . . .

 _What the hell is she looking for_ , Jimmy wondered angrily.

. . . garbage can.

Stepping out into the backyard momentarily.

 _Quick, slam the door behind her!_

 _Sister-_

Then back in.

Making a few notes.

And continuing on into the bedrooms . . .

 _Careful she doesn't disturb our collection of whips and chains under the bed!_

 _We don't have whips and chains under the bed, Bette._

 _Of course not. But I bet she does._

 _Sister-_

. . . and bathroom.

 _Careful, our Jimmy's been having some digestive discomfort lately! It's like he dropped napalm there a few minutes ago._

 _Bette!_

And back out, jotting notes and looking mildly dissatisfied with her inspection.

 _Didn't find a damn thing, did you, bitch?_

And returning to the living room.

"I would like to speak to the child, please."

 _Get the hell away from my daughter!_

Seeing Jimmy was on the verge erupting entirely, Dot moved them . . .

 _Alright, sister, before he kills her-_

 _And the problem with that is?_

 _Evidence, Bette._

 _Ah._

. . . to Jimmy's side, laying a hand on his arm.

As Bette's maternal instincts . . .

 _Let's go sit with her, sister!_

. . . went into overdrive.

And Dot _. . ._

 _No, that bat will think we're trying to control her answers._

. . . strove to remain coolheaded.

 _But-_

 _Stay put. We have nothing hide._

She tried to silently convey as much with her eyes to a practically vibrating Jimmy.

Looking deep into his eyes.

Stilling him.

 _We have nothing to hide._

"Annabel, this is Eugenia Simmons. Please say 'hello'."

Looking up at Brandon, Florida's very own Wicked Witch of the West, Annabel spoke.

"Hello. Why were you in my room?"

Eugenia perched on the edge of Jimmy's . . .

 _Get your evil ass off my chair._

. . . armchair.

Smiled in what she surely thought was a friendly manner.

But just looked to Jimmy like one of Carina the Snake Charmer's old boas ready to eat a fieldmouse.

"I wanted to see if you made your bed like a good girl."

Annabel shrugged.

"Oh, Ma-Ba and Ma-Da _always_ make me make my bed and clean my room everyday. I think it's silly 'cause it'll just get messy again later and I have to go back to bed at the end of the day, but they make me do it anyway."

 _That's right, we do! Taskmasters!_

 _Bette-_

"Ma-Ba and Ma-Da?"

"My mommies."

"I see."

Eugenia Simmons made a note on her paper and Jimmy sudddenly wished he had Superman vision so he could see what she was writing about his little girl.

 _Leave my daughter alone!_

"And did you eat supper tonight?"

 _Of course she did, the leftovers are in the fridge for Jimmy's lunch tomorrow!_

"Yep, Chicken a la King." She leaned forward conspiratorally. "It sounds fancy but it's just chicken and biscuits and vegetables in sauce."

Annabel rolled her eyes.

"They _always_ make me eat my vegetables."

Then Annabel returned to her dolls, brushing the hair of the brunette and humming tunelessly.

"Do you go school?"

Annabel nodded.

"Yep. Even when the school was out when all the teachers got mad and left, Ma-Ba and Ma-Da still made me read books and practice my penmanship and Daddy taught me to count money at his store."

The diligent biographer of Annabel Margaret Walker made a few marks and then addressed the child again.

"Why are you not in school now?"

Annabel gave her a look suggesting she thought the woman might not be using her brains.

"It's night time. And it's summer."

Bette stifled a snort and Dot allowed herself a small smile.

While Jimmy continued to stand seething.

 _Go. Away._

"Are you happy, child? Safe and well?"

Annabel's brown and blue eyes stared at the woman.

"Yeah. Are _you_?"

Eugenia Simmons smiled thinly.

"Yes, I am."

Annabel nodded.

"Oh, good."

And attempted to return to her dolls.

But Eugenia Simmons was not finished with her just yet.

"Annabel, does anyone ever touch you in inappropriate manner?"

 _Now, wait just a fu-_

Outrage began to erupt from Annabel Margaret Walker's infuriated parents.

But Dot bit down on hers.

 _We have nothing to hide. They will see that._

And held onto her partners.

Annabel nodded.

"Sometimes. There was this boy at school that tried to hold my hand but I punched his lights out . . ."

 _Oh god._

. . . real quick before he could get me pregnant."

 _Oh Jesus._

"And he wasn't even trying to get me pregnant anyway. Ma-Da and Ma-Ba and Daddy explained it takes alot more than that."

And then, as a small miracle, Annabel stopped talking before she could educate Eugenia Simmons any further regarding human reproduction.

The woman cleared her throat and continued.

"Is there any time someone else tries to touch you in an inappropriate manner?"

Annabel shook her head decisively.

"No. Ma-Ba and Ma-Da and Daddy take good care of me."

And resumed playing with her dolls.

Straightening the dress of a blond plastic-ed figure.

"Are we done talking now?" Annabel asked. "I need to take a bath."

Despite their harrowing stress,Bette, Dot, and Jimmy all bit the insides of their mouths to keep from laughing as Eugenia Simmons' stern face swiveled toward them.

"Does she _always_ speak like that to adults?" She inquired bitingly.

 _Only when she's being AMAZING!_

Self assigned policer of their little group, Dot shook her head and spoke with the remainder of her self restraint.

"She is an honest child. And she does take a bath every night at this time."

To which Annabel muttered in slight annoyance under nearly under her breath, ' _every night'_.

Eugenia Simmons stayed still for a moment, seeming to consider all the evidence she had gathered.

The she rose, stone-faced.

And approached the trio of parents.

"You will be hearing from us. Thank you for your time."

Then she took her leave, closing the door with a thunk behind her.

Annabel looked up from her dolls.

"What the hell's her problem?"

* * *

 **What, indeed?**

 **Thanks to brigid1318 and King Reeses for your reviews!**


	36. Regarding Annabel

I do not own American Horror Story: Freak Show.

But it will always be near and dear to my heart.

And Baby Makes Four

Regarding Annabel

* * *

"Good morning, I am Judge Simon Deen. Thank you for meeting with me this today."

The elder man adjusted his glasses as he settled himself in his chair.

"Now, are you Jim or Jimmy?"

Jimmy swallowed, throat dry.

"Jimmy."

The judge nodded and turned to the conjoined sisters.

"Which of you is Bette?"

Bette raised her hand timidly.

 _Please don't take my daughter away._

"So that makes you Dot."

 _Please don't take my daughter away._

"Yes, that's right."

The judge studied the women closely, grey eyes searching their faces.

Traveling up to the only distinguishing factor between them.

Their hairbands.

Blue for Dot, green for Bette.

His eyes shifted, from hairband to woman to hairband to woman.

 _Is he trying to remember us, sister?_

 _I think so, Bette._

The entire interaction lasted only seconds and as the stout, grey haired judge cleared his throat and nodded, looking down at the papers on his desk.

"I called you in here today to sum you up, decide for myself what you are and what is needed to be done for the safety and wellbeing of your daughter, Annabel."

He took another deep breath, glancing down at the papers under his hands and then back up to the Walkers.

Looking at each directly and in turn as he talked.

"Testimonies have been gathered regarding the child and you three as well. I would like to read them aloud if you don't mind."

 _Anything, anything, just let us keep our daughter._

When they had received the summons to the judge the previous day, Bette and Dot had flown into a flurry of panicked activity.

Throwing clothes and toiletries into the suitcase they had carried from their dead mother's house to Fraulein Elsa's Cabinet of Curiosities to Angus T. Jefferson's to their current home of nearly nine years.

Crying and trembling.

Preparing to jump in the car.

Grab Jimmy and Annbel from the store.

And flee.

Away. Anywhere.

So long as they could hide and keep their daughter with them forever.

"We can't just stand idly by and let them take our daughter!"

And they would have gone too.

If not for Lucy.

Lucy, who had found one reason or another to come over every day in the week since that horrible Ms. Simmons had so unceremoniously barged into their lives and threatened their precious little family.

"Bette, I've lost my cherry upside down cake recipe and I just can't remember it."

"Dot, can you help me alter this dress? I seem to have gained a few pounds since the last time I wore it."

"Girls, do you think Annabel would like this new book? It's called The Jungle Book."

"So when are we going to repaint your kitchen?"

And she would inevitably find some reason to hang around until just as it was getting time for Jimmy to make an appearance.

As if she had anticipated this very instance or something like it and didn't want her friends to face it alone.

So as Bette and Dot collectively became completely unhinged in the face of a judge summons, Lucy came to the rescue.

Lucy who had once been so weak and afraid.

Now so strong and calm for her friends.

"Listen to me, listen to me, you have to stop."

Quietly, calmly cornering them as they hunched, throwing various necessary sundries into the open suitcase.

"We can't stop! We've got to take our baby and get out of here!"

Lucy, now advancing, attempting to put her hands on their shoulders.

"You can't run, they'll find you and then they'll take her for sure."

Bette, throwing off the comforting arm, tears streaming down her face.

"We've got to _try_!"

Their friend firmly placing herself between them and their bugout bag.

"Stop. Just stop. Now, I don't mean to be rude, but you two do stand out in a crowd. So does Jimmy. You will be noticed. They will put out an APB for a two headed woman and a double handed amputeed man and a little girl with brown and blue eyes and they will find you. And they will most definitely take her away from you then."

Dot and Bette shook their heads in desperate denial.

Lucy caressed their faces one at a time as she continued to speak, voice low and clear.

"And even if you could do it, what kind of life would that be for Annabel? Always having to look over her shoulder? Never having any stablity, any chance at a normal life?"

Bette and Dot slammed clenched fists down on their legs, oblivious of the physical pain, their emotional distress too great.

"What kind of normal life she going to have with us for mothers?! We're freaks! Jimmy's a freak! She has no chance at all! At least this way we would be together!"

And they crumpled to the floor, unable to keep their legs under them any longer.

Kathy knelt with them as they sobbed uncontrollably.

"They haven't taken her away from you yet, Dot, Bette. She is _still_ your daughter. Stay here. Meet with judge. Follow the rules."

 _I don't care about the rules, I care about Annabel!_

Lucy sat, holding them lovingly, as a mother.

"Enjoy her tonight. Feed her her favorite foods. Play her favorite games. In the morning, take Jimmy and go to talk to the judge. I'll be there. I'll wait with Annabel."

Lucy, once so fearful and weak, was now their rock, their strength.

Their friend.

Who calmed them as much they could be calmed.

Sat them down at the kitchen table.

Wiped their faces.

Like children.

Children like Annabel.

Annabel who might be taken away from them.

Annabel their daughter.

Who the judge was deciding the fate of right now.

As he reviewed the information briefly before him.

And began speaking.

* * *

 **Part 2 tomorrow, folks. Sorry not sorry.**

 **Thanks, King Reeses and brigid1318! I'm glad you're out there and still interested and reviewing. Very gracious of you, seriously.**


	37. Then Comes Judgement

I do not own American Horror Story: Freak Show.

But it will always be near and dear to my heart.

And Baby Makes Four

Then Comes Judgement

* * *

In the small, mahogany-trimmed study of Simon Deen, small town court judge of Brandon, Florida, Jimmy Darling Walker and Bette and Dot Tattler-Darling-Walker awaited their fate.

And the fate of their beautiful, precious, heterchromiated daughter, Annabel.

"You are here due to a compliant lodged with the Florida Children's Bureau. The informant shall remain anonymous but the concerned party stated they were concerned the child was living in "unnatural and unhealthy circumstances" and that she might be suffering from "mental and physical abuse" as well as "moral neglect" and should be removed from the home and placed with a "good Christian family of decent and acceptable moral fiber".

Bette was absolutely crushed by the statement, unable to hardly form a coherent thought or even speak to her sister.

Dot felt complete shock and dismay.

While Jimmy simply went blue with rage.

As he opened his mouth to curse the world and everyone in it to his dying breath, the judge lay the paper facedown and held up a hand.

"You can see why, having no other information readily available to us regarding this situation, these allegations were taken rather seriously and investigated."

Jimmy couldn't see anything other than his pulse dancing red dots before his eyes.

The judge continued, picking up the next paper.

"I have here the painstakingly detailed report from Eugenia Simmons . . ."

 _Bitch._

 _Bitch._

 _Bitch._

". . . regarding her unannounced visit to your home last week."

The judge paused, looking over his glasses at the distraught Walkers.

"You understand, these investigative visits are intentionally unannounced so as to gain an honest understanding of the living circumstances of the child rather than have potentially staged interaction."

Dot and Bette thought they managed curt nods.

As Jimmy sat clenching his jaw so hard his entire skull ached.

The judge nodded and continued.

"The report states in some detail the cleaniness and orderliness of the dwelling."

 _What kind of house are we expected to keep, Dot?_

 _An unhealthy and immoral one, Bette. Didn't you hear?_

"Multiple marriage certificates on the walls which could contribute to a sense of moral confusion and misunderstanding within the family makeup."

 _My_ _ass_.

"As well as the cooperative nature of the those residing within."

 _Yeah, The Wicked Witch is still alive._

"With the slight exception of the child herself being cleanily, and cheerful, as well as slightly . . . precocious and questioning of authority."

 _My daughter can tell an idiot when she sees one._

The judge, his face carefully blank, continued.

"There was also a concern regarding possible sexual deviance due to multiple spouses coexisting in the same abode as well as the child herself being concerned with becoming pregnant by "holding hands with a boy"."

 _Shit, are you kidding me?!_

The judge laid that paper facedown and picked up a third page.

"I believe Mr. Arnold Reed is the principal of your daughter's elementary school?"

 _I'm going to be sick, sister._

 _No, Dot._

"He reported that she is excelling academically in third grade, a rather impressive feat, considering she did not complete first grade last year due to the rather unpredictable and volitile nature of the spring semester. And skipping second grade altogether."

The proud parents of Annabel Walker felt pride temporarily swelling their chests, releasing some of the strain constricting them.

"As for her behavior and social interactions in regards to her peers . . "

Which then became hot rocks of tensions as he continued.

". . . Mr. Reed stated that he personally believes that she has a very passionate sense of right and wrong and the "courage to act upon those beliefs"."

 _Oh, that sounds . . ._

 _. . . beautiful, sister._

 _Yes._

"He also stated that her parents, "though of a unique nature in form and familial makeup appear to educate and care for their daughter as well as, or more so, that parents of a more tradional arrangement. "Always willing to meet and discuss what is in her best interests and support the staff as much as possible while also upholding the rigor of what proper education should be"."

 _Well, that might be laying it on a little thick._

 _No, it's not. Jimmy only cussed him out that once._

 _Maybe twice._

 _Well . . ._

"Her teacher, Miss Marie Wall, was interviewed as well and stated that Annabel is a very focused student in her class and very helpful to her teacher. As far as interactions with her interactions with her peers, she noted Annabel is very quiet and slightly withdrawn . . ."

 _Oh our sweet baby, Dot!_

". . . and only engages in altercations "when she sees no other alternative".

 _Ma'd be proud of that statement._

"The previous teacher, Joan Andrews, did voice concern that Annabel came from a "less than normal home setting" . . .

 _Can't argue with that._

 _Hush._

". . . which made it difficult for her to "understand and interact with her peers".

 _Maybe her peers were children raised by small-minded little shits._

The judge laid the third paper facedown and paused.

"Would you like to take a break? Get some water? Smoke?"

The three of them paused, almost in unison.

 _I just want my daughter!_

The judge cleared his throat and continued.

"The remaining are testimonies from various people of the community. Mrs. Ethel Harding says she prefers the warmth and friendly atmosphere of Clark's grocery and that Mr. Jimmy always takes good care of her."

 _Oh Mrs. Harding and her hard candy fetish. Free groceries for you next trip._

"Thomas Clark a very upstanding member of the community, active member of the Ruritan Club, and son of the store you run, Jimmy, rang me up two days ago and stated, "Jimmy, Dot, and Bette Walker are some of the finest individuals I have ever had pleasure of knowing. I trust them with my father's business, I trust them with my life, and I trust them with the lives of my children. Their daughter could not have more loving, caring parents than they."

Bette's composure broke then and she fumbled a hankerchief out of her dress pocket, raising it to her face as she wept with gratitude.

"Lucy Barrett stated, "I have lived next door to the Walkers for years. They have always treated me with the utmost kindness and respect. Their daughter takes art lessons from me and is always happy and healthy and well-cared for. Bette and Dot did not chose to be born the way they were and Jimmy did not choose to lose his hands. They have done to best they could for themselves and are good people who have helped people, namely me, along the way. They should be allowed to raise their daughter and live their lives as they see fit"."

The judge stopped then and laid down the papers.

"There are more if you wish to hear them. Most are positive and encouraging. Some, mostly of a religious viewpoint, are rather dismal but nothing more than personal dislike and fanatical ranting. But I'd like to stop there."

He eyed them in turn before speaking.

"No one could produce any evidence or even real concerns of misconduct on any of your parts. In appearance to all, the community largely regards you as anomalies perhaps, but nevertheless, upstanding citizens and good parents."

Judge Deen opened his hands, palms up, gesturing vaguely to his audience.

"The only crime you seem to have committed is being born physically the way you are," he directed to Bette and Dot.

"And you," now it was Jimmy's turn to be on parade, "married them."

Their hearts plummeted.

 _Oh sister-_

 _Shhh._

"There is a law against polygamy, which is the act of having multiple wives at the same time."

Simon Deen paused and Dot felt the opportunity to speak aloud for her family had come.

She reached out and laid her hand on Jimmy's arm where he could feel it.

Felt the conjoinedness of Bette next to her.

And spoke.

"Like you said, Judge, we can't help the way my sister and I were born. And as you can see, separation is not possible. But we are human and it is a part of us to feel love. We each feel love for Jimmy. And he feels love for us. And we all feel love for our daughter."

Jimmy felt tears filling up his eyes as Dot spoke truthfully amd eloquently for them all.

"All we want is the best for her. We did not try to have her, she was an unexpected gift to us. But we love her and take care of her and try to raise her the best we can. Maybe being raised as she is will give her more compassion for others. Learn to be more kind and tolerant and caring. The way the world needs to be."

The judge smiled gently.

"I won't profess to understand your life or your decisions. You have a hard road and I suspect it will not get any easier for you."

 _Well, Dandy is out of the picture so that helps._

 _Sister, how many times-_

 _Hush, dear._

"What you have and how you live is alien to me. But I can understand one thing. I can understand when a child is loved and cared for.

 _Sister-_

 _Don't breathe._

And your daughter loved and cared for. I am going to dismiss this case. Be careful and be safe. You may go."

* * *

 **No surprise there, I guess. You knew they weren't losing Annabel. I mean, I'm not as hardcore as Ryan Murphy, you know. ;)**

 **But hopefully you enjoyed this little mini story arc anyway. One more chapter in it and we'll take a short break. I'll be going to work until next weekend. After a ten day snow break so I'm not complaining.**

 **Thanks to King Reeses and brigid1318 for graciously reviewing!**


	38. Courage

I do not own American Horror Story: Freak Show.

But it will always be near and dear to my heart.

And Baby Makes Four

Courage

* * *

They had felt safe.

Perhaps too safe.

Not anymore.

And like hermit crabs, they responded to unease and the threat of harm by drawing into themselves.

Shutting out the outside world.

Hiding away.

And staying there.

Indefinitely.

Until the threat went away.

But their threat would not go away, would never go away.

Their threat was the whole world and everything in it.

And, barring the advent of some strange Twilight Zone-esque apocalypse, the world and all its inhabitants were _never_ going to go away.

And Bette and Dot . . .

"Okay, lovely ladies, let's go to WoolWorth's!"

"Oh no, I, uh, we, uh . . ."

". . . have so much to do . . ."

". . . We couldn't possibly . . ."

"Ma-Ba, Ma-Da, I want to go to the park."

"Oh dear, Annabel, well, um, it looks like it might rain . . ."

"Rain comes from clouds. There's not a cloud in the sky!"

"Oh, well . . ."

. . . were resolutely resisting every effort made to draw them out.

Jimmy had no such opportunities for hiding.

He owned a business, ran a store, small but strong.

He also brought home the only money the family received.

And so he went out to face the world everyday, save Sundays.

And the world . . .

"Lost those in 'Nam, huh? Fightin' a war we never should have been in?"

"Uh, no, not exactly-"

"I'll tell you what though, those damn Charlies . . ."

. . . generally passed him over relatively quickly.

While Dot and Bette . . .

 _We'll just send Jimmy out later to get the mail._

 _Yes. That seems like a good idea._

. . . now desperately sought the refuge they had once . . .

"I want to go to a movie, Momma!"

"I want to go to a play!"

. . . fought so hard against.

* * *

And so it went for weeks and weeks until the phone rang one day.

Bette picked it up, hating even this small interaction.

 _I wish we could speak to Jimmy and Annabel the way we speak to each other._

 _Yes, then we would never have to risk talking to outsiders again._

 _Heaven_.

But knowing it might involve their darling Jimmy or precious Annabel, they answered the phone.

"Hello?"

As it turned out . . .

"Hello, Mrs. Walker?"

. . . it did.

* * *

Annabel had been taking piano lessons in the afternoons from Miss Wall.

She was getting pretty good.

Good enough that Miss Wall . . .

"Why not?! I've been practicing _really_ hard and Miss Wall says I'm ready!"

. . . wanted her to be in a recital at city hall.

"Annabel, honey, you don't understand-"

Blue and brown eyes glared up at them.

"No, I don't! You said I didn't do anything wrong but I'm being punished because you never do anything fun with me anymore! You never do anything but sit and _worry_!"

Jimmy stepped forward then, voice uncharacteristically stern.

"Annabel! Don't talk like that to your mothers!"

Annabel's lower lip trembled.

"I just want Ma-Da and Ma-Ba to proud of me! Be happy again!"

Then she burst into tears and ran crying to her room.

 _Damn it all to Hell_ , Jimmy thought in numbed shock. _What do I do now, Ma?_

And he turned to his beloved wives.

Wives who had been so withdrawn lately, eyes downcast.

Voices almost nonexistent.

Spirits pale and fading as of late.

"Hey . . ." he tried to begin.

And then they burst into tears as well, stumbling from their kitchen sanctuary and down the hall.

Shutting the bedrooms door behind them.

Leaving Jimmy . . .

 _Shit._

. . . alone.

* * *

 _Oh sister, we've been selfish and made our daughter unhappy._

 _I know, Dot. I never meant to. I've just been . . ._

 _. . . scared. Yes, I know. So have I._

 _I didn't even know she was_ practicing _for a recital. I didn't even know she was good enough._

 _I just feel so guilty, sister._

 _Yes, me too._

And they cried themselves to sleep.

* * *

Jimmy tried not to make anyone ever do anything they . . .

"Don't know how to help them, Lucy."

. . . didn't want to do.

"They just won't listen to me, Kathy."

But he was getting desperate.

His darlings were slipping farther and farther away.

From him.

And Annabel, who needed her mothers.

Jimmy had been upset too at the whole thing.

But he was forced to go into the world everyday.

Face people who may or may not through gossip and hearsay, know anything at all about his personal life.

He was forced to face them.

Interact.

And live.

Bette and Dot on the other hand, had lived the first part of their lives, mostly in their own heads.

And to that safe place, they seemed to have returned.

"Apart from bodily _carrying_ them to the recital, Jimmy, I can't force them to go."

But their friends were not failing them now.

"But I can promise that barring illness, _we_ will be there."

* * *

The night of recital arrived.

Annabel having been granted the privilege of spending the afternoon with Kathy and her family.

Who would be attending the evening's festivities.

Though no one was certain of the same of Dot . . .

 _I just don't think I can._

 _Annabel will be so disappointed, sister._

. . . and Bette.

Who . . .

 _Well, she doesn't have to live our lives, does she?!_

 _No, she doesn't._

. . . were well and truly miserable.

They paced and wrung their hands together.

 _Sister-_

 _Sister-_

 _We must-_

 _I know-_

* * *

The dress was several years old, sewn in a lighter, happier time of their lives.

Black cotton with a wide neck and slim three quarter sleeves.

Ruched waistline.

A wide blue and gold swirl design decorating half of the full skirt which fell to just below their knees.

Paired with black flats as was their custom.

Blue and gold headbands to match.

A simple, lovely frock.

But quite fancy for them.

And it was the only apparel that would suffice for the importance of the evening.

If they could only find it within themselves to step out of their bedroom door.

And _go_.

 _Sister-_

 _I can't._

 _For our daughter._

 _Dot-_

 _I know. Me too._

 _Let's go._

* * *

Jimmy, anxiously waiting until the last minute to leave, hopeful his wives would find the courage to once more face the entire world right in their small town, sat on the couch.

And rose with burgeoning hope as Bette and Dot shakily entered the living rooms, faces masks of strain and determination.

He smiled warmly at his wives, heart pounding through his two toned, button up shirt.

"You look beautiful."

They thought they smiled.

"Thank you, Jimmy."

And then found they could not move.

He did for them, to their sides, gently kissing their cheeks.

"You two okay?"

They trembled.

"No. Let's go."

And they went.

* * *

There were too many people in the auditorium.

Too many people to look at them.

Stare. Whisper.

Kathy had saved two seats, though she had only mentioned the one to Annabel.

Thomas patted Jimmy's shoulder and spoke.

"Brought the whole family to cheer for her. And I see you did too! Excellent!"

Lucy and Kathy hugged the sisters.

George and Patty waved and resumed talking to their friends who had also been dragged along by their parents to see various cousins and neighbors.

While most of the crowd, in the meantime, had grown silent.

Save for uncomfortable shuffles and behind the hand murmurs.

 _Sister-_

 _We are here for Annabel, Bette._

 _. . . Yes._

And they sat down and pretended not to notice.

* * *

It was difficult.

Fighting the nausea and the stomach cramps and the nervous bladder . . .

 _I'm not going to make it, sister._

 _Oh yes, we are, sister. Well make it together, sister._

. . . they both shared.

There was a sizable list of performers listed on the docket.

Most in attendance.

Annabel was about midway through.

They stoically sat through tubas, cellos, violins.

And a few piano pieces.

So far as they could care to tell, Annabel was one of the younger performers . . .

 _Oh she's just too young for this, Dot!_

. . . of the evening.

And it was a long wait.

* * *

Each performer amd their piece of introduced by their mentor.

Ms. Wall finally announced . . .

". . . very proud to introduce Miss Annabel Walker, a third grade student in my classroom. She will be playing "Prelude to a Well-Tempered Clavichord" by Johann Sebastian Bach."

 _Oh dear lord, sister, that sounds positively dreadful!_

 _So intimidating!_

 _What's a clavichord?_

 _I think it's a bone on the ne-_

And suddenly, to dutiful applause, their dear Annabel appeared onstage.

Her blond hair was set back in a simple pony to keep her face free of distraction.

A pure white ribbon wreathed the waist of her deep blue dress.

She wore the customary little girl white lacy ankle socks but sported her comfortable white Sevees instead of black church shoes.

 _Oh my goodness, Bette! She just looks so beautiful!_

 _A little angel!_

Annabel moved to the piano and sat down carefully.

She looked so alone and tiny, the sisters were tidalwaved with terror.

 _Oh what we're we thinking, Bette?!_

 _She's too little to do this, Dot! Something awful is going to happen!_

Silence reigned for a moment.

And then their daughter began to play.

It was a beautiful light, lilting melody.

Simple in execution yet ethereal in feel.

Played at half tempo than originally intended.

Though Bette and Dot did not know it.

All they knew was that it was transportative and wonderful.

 _Oh sister . . ._

 _I never knew . . ._

And then, Annabel faltered.

Hitting a wrong note, then two.

And the piano stopped dead.

Annabel frozen solid upon the bench, her face pinched and fixed, fingers inches from the black and white keys.

Bette and Dot caught their breathes in sudden striking fear.

 _Oh god, sister!_

 _Our baby!_

And just as they were about to rise, sprint to the stage and spirit their precious little girl away, Annabel lowered her fingers.

And continued playing.

Smoothly, flawlessly.

Directly from where she had left off.

The sisters did not move, they did not breathe.

They listened to their daughter and for their daughter.

Until the last chord faded away.

And Annabel Margaret Walker lifted her fingers from the piano and put them in her lap.

The audience clapped politely.

At least Bette and Dot thought they did.

Because as Annabel rose from the piano bench, her mothers had already leapt to their feet.

Tears of happiness and pride streaming down their faces, clapping so hard it hurt their hands.

A nervous Annabel faced the crowd to curtsey.

Caught the outline of her mothers' unique frame.

And a huge smile lit up her entire face as she shouted for all the auditorium to hear.

"Ma-Ba! Ma-Da!"

And instead of returning backstage as instructed, Dot and Bette Tattler-Darling-Walker's little girl _jumped_ off stage and _ran_ down the aisle.

Straight into her mothers' arms.

Dot and Bette didn't hear the heartfelt 'awws' of those in attendance over the sound of their daughter's ecstatic cries.

"You came! You came!"

"Yes, baby, we did!"

"You were wonderful, Annabel!"

"Are you proud of me? I messed up but I didn't quit. I just kept going like Ms. Wall said. Are you proud?"

"So proud, baby, so proud!"

"Hey, Daddy!"

"Hey, Annabel!"

"Look! Ma-Da and Ma-Ba are here!"

"I know, Annabel, isn't that great?"

"Yes!"

And she sat contentedly on her Ma-Da and Ma-Ba's lap for the remainder of the recital.

Amd nobody came to take her away.

* * *

"She's asleep."

Jimmy looked up from detaching his hands.

"Oh good. I didn't think she be able to sleep, she was so excited."

Bette chuckled, massaging a stump carefully.

"Neither did we."

Dot massaged the other.

"We wanted to thank you, Jimmy. For your kindness and patience through all this."

He smiled gently at them, dimples still there after all those years.

"Hey, we take care of each other, right?"

The sisters nodded.

"Yes, we do. We love you, Jimmy."

"I love you girls, too."

They drew him in for a kiss and he returned it gratefully.

It was nice to be reconnected again after awhile if not physically, emotionally apart.

But as he started to pull away, they drew him back.

"Come back here, Mr. Walker . . ."

". . . we're not done with you yet."

And Jimmy, though pleasantly surprised, obliged them.

It had, after all, been a while.

* * *

 **Wheew! Well, I hope you enjoyed that. I certainly did.**

 **Thanks brigid1318 and King Reeses for reviewing! You guys are wonderfully encouraging. :)**

 **See you again soon for more of the story!**


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